I am seeing someone I met on a conventional dating app. 6 weeks now. And I have been doing something I haven’t done since I was 19. Letting out my kinky side slowly.

We go on dates. Coffee, dinner, films. We started our conversations together by sharing the operational details about ourselves. I do this for a living, I have this many children, brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, who are this old, and do this and live here etc. etc. It’s amazing how much of that operational detail there is in the life of two people in their late 30s. How you got to your current career, marital status, number of children are all stories to tell. The physical attraction between us was obvious from the beginning and sex happened quickly. It was good but very vanilla. I tried to spice things up perhaps too soon and it went a little wrong. I was devastated but it got us talking deeper. I talked more about why my marriage really ended. He shared some group sexual experiences he’d had. The problem was he respected me as a ‘lady in the street’ and wasn’t sure how to reconcile that with seeing me as a ‘freak in the bed’ (I’m using his words). He has always been hugely affectionate – cuddles, kisses, stroking – which I have lapped up like the affection whore I am. But when we started talking fantasies, I could see his mind struggle to comprehend how a woman like me could like sex like that.

We have started slowly. Hair pulling, arse fucking, cable ties. Lots of kissing, cuddling, talking. I haven’t mentioned punishment at all for fear of scaring him. Tonight I told him about this blog and FetLife. Again he seemed to struggle to understand it and what it meant. Because in our lives beyond sex our conversation has stayed operational. He has asked deeper questions about my life but has not seemed ready to listen and communicate back on my answers. I have revealed some difficult things and, as with my BDSM identity, revealed them slowly and carefully. But every time we seem to fall short. Of what, I can’t explain. I want to lay my soul bare. I want him to do the same. Expose our vulnerabilities. Share our hopes, dreams, desires, fears. But it’s like I start to undress and reveal my inner most thoughts and he glances over disapprovingly at my semi-naked soul and I hurriedly re-dress feeling rejected and ashamed.

Slowly, I keep telling myself, slowly, slowly, slowly. But it’s so fucking hard. I have so much to say and so much I want him to understand and there is still a big dark part of my life I haven’t even touched on. I am scared how he will judge me when I tell the story of the girl who was abused and became the woman who actively seeks what some may view as abuse for her sexual release. How to tell such a story? How to tell me? This was always the reason I gave myself for staying in my marriage. No one would understand. No one would want to learn about my darkness …

But that’s not true. If there is one thing this blog and FetLife have taught me it’s that I am not alone. Someone will understand me. I may have to work hard at how I communicate and learn to be patient but someone one day will want to understand me and we will find a way together. We’ll combine each other’s languages to form our own. We will use that to understand each other. Emotionally and physically.

My new man called me a pervert. I didn’t like it even though I could see he meant it kindly. I thought carefully about my reply.

“I’m not a pervert. I’m kinky with a P.”

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