Okay, so I’ll call most people by their initials here, or by cute codenames, but I’d like to just call the heartbreaking pseudo-dom in the previous post Bill, which is his name. Not too long after I broke things off with Bill, I went to a kink party, but I was too heartbreaky to get very much out of it. I did find out that a friend of mine had unexpected knot-tying skills, but it mostly made me miss the jackass.
What I really needed was some time to get to know people. As anyone who reads Dan Savage has heard him tell a million novices, the best way to find kinky folks is to go to a munch. That’s when you get to sit around and talk to kinky people, but in your regular clothes, and for some reason around here, often in a sports bar. I find the sports bar part more daunting than the meeting-kinky-strangers part.
It was a few weeks after the breakup-or-whatever and I was still a mess. My wife kept worrying about me and calling me dead behind the eyes. The Zombies’ “She’s Not There” was on repeat a lot during those weeks. I was such a mess, broken and still sometimes convinced that I couldn’t do better than him, and I couldn’t imagine being appealing to anyone, but the combination of the compelling nature of what I’d just experienced and spite for Bill still kept me wanting to push myself forward.
My wife (how about I call her Sweetie) agreed to come with me even though she is monogamous and at the time had very little interest in BDSM. She’s really shy but I found it comforting to have her there. It’s funny to think what a fragile little seashell I was only a month or so ago. We walked in to the back room of the tavern and found a nice lady in a corset handing out nametags: red for dominant, blue for submissive, gold for switch. Sweetie wouldn’t say she’s any of those things, so she was confused about which nametag to pick. (*ahem* She’s a switch, we’re starting to see.)
I guess people usually circulate at these things, but I liked the couple we were sitting next to, so we stayed put. She’s a Varga Girl redhead and he’s the kind of bearish snuggly type I tend to want to pal around with. When I started bonding with the lady, H, over our mutual love of Project Runway, the gentleman was right there with “Well maybe I’ll tie you two together, and then as a reward, you can watch Project Runway together.”
See this is what I love about the local BDSM community! So quick with the imagination and so welcoming! I felt so included! That was one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me, and people have said some nice things.
So I was like, okay, we’re friends now.
The gentleman (well.), turned out to be quite the photographer. H handed me her phone and let me look through all of her pictures on Fet Life—there were about a jillion. The more I looked at the pictures, the better I felt about life. I was mesmerized, just kept looking and looking. There were all kinds of pictures of her, including some where she was suspended from the ceiling, but one caption stands out in my memory “My first boobs-out party!” That seems like a good goal to have.
So my take-away from that munch? I want to go to there, to accomplish part of what those two are accomplishing, to leave the sad parts (and monogamy!) behind and adventure wholeheartedly.