When I was younger I had to accept a difficult truth (difficult at that point) about myself; I was different from my friends. I was interested in girls, not boys, and until the first time I fell in love, I refused to accept that as a fact. After I first fell in love, I didn’t have any problem with it anymore, but I still wasn’t sure whether I only would fall in love with girls or if I could fall in love with boys too. Years later, it’s still open to discussion. I simply don’t know. How can I know? I have only ever liked girls, but I haven’t lived very long. Maybe one day a boy will catch my fancy and I will think: Okey, not a lesbian then, but bisexual. I don’t like not knowing; I can live with it, though. But I wonder: how do other people know? How do they know where they fit and don’t fit? Do they know at all?
Now I have a similar problem; similar but different. These last months I have wondered, read and thought a lot about BDSM. I have read a lot of informative websites and a lot of blogs. Or, not a lot of blogs, just a lot on the blogs that I have liked and that seemed reasonable, in my humble experience. That they were very well written and a lot of fun to read was a great advantage of course. I haven’t read any books, or not any books that was worth reading, at least. Maybe I will get there, in time.
I don’t remember exactly what started this. No, that’s not completely true; I wanted to write an erotic novel with BDSM, that’s how it started. But the novel was more an excuse that anything else. “No, I haven’t any personal interest in BDSM, it’s just research.” It was easier to tell myself that was all, and for a while I needed the excuse. Maybe I would have liked to keep the excuse longer, but while I’m still a good pretender, I also know myself a bit better now than I did as a teenager. At some point it stopped being research and started being personal, it is the simple truth.
When I had concluded that I did read all those sites and blogs for no other reason than personal curiosity and the fact that I wanted, needed, to know more, the next little problem popped up. Where did I belong? Suppose BDSM really was for me, where did I see myself? As a submissive or a dominant? As a masochist or a sadist? I have thought about it quite a lot.
At first I believed I fell in the submissive category. My first girlfriend, let us call her C, was a bit kinky and I enjoyed being lightly tied up and played with very much. I need to have control; every minute of every day, so giving her that control gave me a break. A break to just be me then and there, and nothing more. But when I read more about submissiveness I realized I didn’t have that kind of willingness in me. At least, I’m pretty sure I don’t. So, maybe a bottom but not a submissive.
I know I like a bit of pain, from biting and scratching, but does that make me masochistic? I have no idea. Do I like more pain than I have already experienced at some point? I don’t know that either. Since I need control, maybe I’m dominant? Some of the things I have read points in that direction. When I started out there was only one thing I was sure of: I wasn’t a sadist. Some weeks later, I have reason to believe I was wrong.
I shouldn’t be so sure of something I know nothing about.
A few of the blog posts involving sadism seemed positively brutal to me, and I fast found other posts to read while I tried to put those posts out of my mind. Problem was, the posts would not be forgotten. Not because the details made me a bit horrified. No, because the feeling in the scene that was described, if not the scene itself, stuck a cord within me. I was curious, and became more curious the more I read. Soon I had to admit to myself that it was something there that I liked, something that I liked a bit too much, truth to be told.
Now I feel a bit like a teenager again. The teenager that said:
“Other people may be lesbians, if they want to, but I’m not. Thank you very much!”
I feel like saying:
“Other people may be sadists, if they want to, but I’m not. Thank you very much!”
Both then and now I know the truth, even if I’m not quite ready to admit to it. As a teenager I knew that I might, just might, be a lesbian, or at the very least be able to fall in love with girls.
Now I know that I might, just might, be a sadist, or at the very least a bit sadistic. But I don’t know, I just don’t know.
I don’t like not knowing; I can live with it, though. But I wonder: how do other people know? How do they know where they fit and don’t fit? Do they know at all?