Thursday, March 29, 2012

How I Found Out I’m Kinky, Part One: You Had Me at Duct Tape


Backtracking is never as much fun as writing about current adventures, but I might be a little bit stuck right now, so I’ll tell this story. Oh, Bill.

I had a vague idea all along about wanting to be dominated, but I didn’t have any idea of what my BDSM imagination could come up with until I met Bill last fall.

Before I talk about him, though, I should stop and give credit to the Mayor of Kittentown. Last fall when I first started dating guys, MOKT was the first guy I really clicked with. I could tell he was trustworthy because the first time I ever went to his house, my first urge was to lie down and take a nap. He was a safe and fun person to have a whole bunch of first-in-a-long-times with. He treated me kindly, told me I’m beautiful, and let me take my time. Also he has a really excellent penis. I’m just such a fan of it. He was the first guy that I had PIV sex with (after a date to see The Muppets, no less) in sixteen years and my reaction was I CAN’T BELIEVE I WENT SO LONG WITHOUT THIS and also MORE PLEASE.

The Mayor of Kittentown deserves a lot more paragraphs and will probably get them, but for this story, it’s important to remember he is in my life all the time making me feel beautiful and generally doing things right.

At the same time as I was getting to know MOKT, I found Bill on Ok Cupid. I wrote to him despite the fact that he had 666 in his username because I liked that he had a link to a party clip from Beyond the Valley of the Dolls on his profile (I just go nuts for a B-movie aesthetic) and, under “Things I Cant Live Without,” he had a bunch of synonyms for the word “moxie.” His is still my favorite profile ever, blocked though it may now be. I told Sweetie that he had a picture of himself looking snarly/thoughtful in a throne made out of bones and another one where he posed next to a girl covered in stage blood and I asked “Is this guy a serial killer or just kind of metal?” and Sweetie said “I think maybe you’re less likely to get murdered than you think.” I found that very comforting!

He was very untoward. When I told him I’m a Hermione Grangerlike fussy straight-A student and asked if Harry Potter references turn guys off, he said no, especially now that Emma Watson had turned 18. This would ordinarily be a dealbreaker- I can’t stand guys who are over-focused on youth, but I couldn’t help but just laugh and agree about the hotness of Emma Watson.

Another time, when I told him I was having my students write about daylight savings time, he said “Well, I’d prefer dirty limericks about duct tape, but hey, it’s your class.”

I should have been mortified, I think, but instead, I felt something click, my usual ok-we’re-friends-now feeling—he was scary but I was so curious. I wrote back and said that in my extremely limited experience, pretty ribbons > duct tape. I felt all scandalous for saying that, even though it is really mild compared to the conversations I have these days. So we’d kind of agreed to a tying up situation by, like, the third email.

I used to start Ok Cupid conversations by asking guys to send me some songs. I am in graduate school for teacher certification and sometimes the classes are really boring and my soul needs to be woken back up. He was soooooo good at sending songs. Tina Turner singing “Whole Lotta Love,” 60s go-go music that made me think of dancing naked in the woods, the occasional Bjork heart-melter. He sent Elvis’s Suspicious Minds and I opened it at work—the librarians swooned and I told him he’d made everyone’s day. He wrote back “I’m just here to help.”

The song that ended up on repeat the most often was Brian Eno’s “Baby’s On Fire” which includes these lyrics:

“Baby’s on fire, better throw her in the water. Look at her laughing, like a heifer to the slaughter.”


There were a fair number of creepy songs like that, but instead of scaring me off, they drew me in. We made plans to meet, and I warned him that I’m much more brazen over email, that I’m awkward but not this awkward:

Next time: He gets jealous of the famous rope guy.

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