If Sex Doesn’t Involve Kink or BDSM, I’m Not Interested
Dear Kinky in Kentucky,
Thank you for your question, which took bravery on your part, I’m sure. I think I get the “I’m a little afraid of your answer” part, as I’m sensing some shame or self-doubt just below the surface of your question—as in, “Am I some kind of freak or something?” I really don’t believe any human phenomenon is freakish once we look close or long enough at the entire context of a person’s life experience. More information would be useful, but it’s possible you’re expressing some aspect of your self-experience from your past. Very often, pain or desire we somehow can’t express or articulate is often “acted out” in various parts of our lives.
In other words, don’t punish yourself or worry about being “abnormal.” Our sexual preferences come in all sorts of shapes, sizes, varieties, and intensities. There’s a reason Fifty Shades of Grey was wildly successful; submitting to another’s will can be exciting, and even “vanilla” sex is often tinged with a mingling of the tender and the violent. Many men and women love to be spanked, bit, tickled, squeezed, and pinched in all manner of ways, both pleasurable and painful. Even the phrase “penetration” is double-edged, as it suggests both union and intrusion. Many sexual slang words contain this strange combination of eroticism and violence. The line between pain and pleasure, as you may know, is often razor thin if it exists at all in the inscrutable, unconscious potpourri that constitutes human sexuality. (Curiosity of which spurred the foundation of psychology itself.)
There is a hint of a conflict in your question, in that part of you is enjoying these activities, while part of you seems to stand outside and wonder if this is all kosher. I would therefore encourage you to become curious about all this—what it might mean to you emotionally in terms of what it expresses about you and what is so rewarding about it—rather than judge or scold yourself. With practice (such as meditation or quiet reflection), or with the help of a therapist, one can learn to neutrally investigate one’s own desires, fears, sexual preferences, and so forth. Judgment keeps blame in place, while curiosity and self-acceptance can nurture a freer commingling of the wakefulness, unconscious fantasies, and wishes that manifest in sexuality.
Because of the limited information in your question about yourself (understandable), I’m going to guess there are two main concerns about your apparently “unusual” (but actually fairly common) attraction to BDSM. (For readers unfamiliar with this blended acronym, it stands for Bondage & Discipline/Domination & Submission/Sadism & Masochism.) As with so many behaviors, in sex—as I implied above—a person is often divided (loosely) into one who participates and one who observes. Here, your “participant” is having a good time, it sounds like, while the observer is stroking her chin, a bit skeptical, on the horns of some kind of dilemma. And yet this very dividedness may indicate you, at earlier points in your life, had to separate yourself or compartmentalize the desires and wishes that are “contained” or bound in BDSM activity.
Is it that you’re worried your preferences will turn off other people? I wonder if you fear judgment or disapproval or worry that if others do not understand or do not line up with your choices, you might end up alone—or, worse, judged or shamed and also alone, a punishment that is far from pleasurable or exciting.
Is it that you’re worried your preferences will turn off other people? I wonder if you are fearing judgment or disapproval, or have anxiety that if others do not understand or do not line up with your choices, you might end up alone—or, worse, judged or shamed and also alone, a punishment that is far from pleasurable or exciting.
In working with members of the BDSM community, I have found that S&M play both constricts and liberates the person simultaneously, whether one is the S or the M. Many otherwise mild-mannered, even shy people enjoy finding their inner “Master” or “Mistress” and taking control of another, who will (unlike others in “real life”) listen and submit rather than scoff or move away. Many “M’s” are actually fairly self-directed, sometimes perfectionistic folks who are thrilled at the sensual submission to another’s will, where someone else is (unlike their real-life experience) firmly in the driver’s seat, where decisions and agency is excitingly “handled” by another. Desire that is unexpressed in “real life” is free to play in a sexual context, but diverted or kept under wraps the rest of the time.
So the specific question would be how and if these scenarios both free up and protect something: what gets expressed and what stays tied up (pun sort of intended)? Is there a struggle with shame over your desires or hopes in romantic relationships? Is it that anxiety is “bound” or contained in this role-playing? Were there earlier experiences of being dominated or controlled or punished that weren’t so fun but are now excitingly transformed in the shadows of the bedroom? (This would give a person a sense of mastery or control over past wounded-ness.)
The other concern I have relates to compulsivity, or compulsively maintained rigidity around “roles.” A person once remarked to me in therapy that he liked BDSM because the boundaries were strikingly clear and defined: you do this, I do that, with no gray in between. (Most of our relating to others exists in the gray.) In other words, the rigidity of boundary making was exciting, but his beloved partner was not as enthralled with the role-playing, which started a rift between them that led to the end of the relationship. (Sexuality often serves as a metaphor for one’s emotional attachment patterns to others.) Until this man saw the emotional needs, in therapy, that were “masked” by the role of the M, he couldn’t communicate what he hoped and expected from his partner outside the bedroom. They couldn’t collaboratively find ways to say what they wanted or needed together, as allies. Instead, they got tangled up in power struggles that drove them apart.
So-called “normal” sexuality was ambiguous and confusing to this man. He often felt overly responsible for others’ feelings, and it was hard to ask others for help (at work, for instance). He’d take on more than he could handle most of the time and preferred in his nighttime activities to submit to another person, giving up overbearing responsibility. This was both thrilling and a relief, though it also masked an emotional vulnerability and desire for guidance and support. Only when such needs were sexualized, in a controlled role-playing context, were they safe to express. Otherwise, they stayed repressed.
The downside of rigidity, therefore, is that it is, well, rigid. Meaning there is no fluidity of roles, which might restrict play and lead to emotional frustration for one or both partners. Black and white boundaries are comforting and limiting, which is kind of the point, except that it’s also nice to be able to psychologically grow in relationship as time goes on. This means you may possibly be depriving yourself of a longer-term partner with whom you can grow as a couple, as mutual allies.
There is nothing wrong with these choices, by the way. I’m engaging in a longer-term viewpoint that sees, possibly, the potential to limit one’s developmental expansion with an intimate other, if the script must always stay the same. Again, sexuality becomes a metaphor for how we attach and relate to others.
Whether this means you try to find someone who matches your preference, or try to adapt to a person who has similar but different preferences with whom you can play and experiment and take turns, is of course a highly personal decision. Some would rather be part of a BDSM lifestyle or community, finding a kind of “family” within. In the end, this is one’s own existential choice, which, I believe, no one has the right to judge. Some would rather find ways to loosen those preferences, especially if the other person is loved but has different sexual needs.
But my main point would be to investigate all of the above with compassionate curiosity. In what ways do these activities symbolize emotional surrenders you may have experienced, or wished for but never found? Does the spanking mean there’s excitement in being punished for having sexual desire, or something else? Perhaps you experienced pleasure and pain in equal measure and were taught to conflate the two. Sometimes (but not always) there is correlation in the intensity of the BDSM play—harsh and strict versus light and sensual, for instance—and the emotional intensity found within one’s family of origin. Also, those who are attracted to dominance and submission may have had boundary violations as a child, violations that are replicated in the adult scenarios while being soothed with sexual excitement and pleasure. If this sounds like you, meeting with a therapist could prove very enlightening and beneficial.
I hope this is helpful and perhaps the start of a new and rewarding self-investigation. Thanks for writing!
Best wishes,
Darren
Darren Haber
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Cynthia
January 16th, 2016 at 5:15 AMI am sure that you could find a partner who would enjoy a little bit of this and then a little bit of sex in a way that maybe they enjoyed a little better. I know that even in my own marriage sex sometimes feels like a give and take, sometimes we do more of what I like and sometimes I try to make it more about what he likes. That is what compromise is about.
Boyd
January 18th, 2016 at 9:33 AMSeriously there are many guys who would like this. I mean, I know that there could be a problem too to not enjoy all different kinds of sex but maybe if you found the right partner…?
Carla
January 21st, 2016 at 11:14 AMI am curious at what point would you start to look at if there was some past trauma affecting how you view sex?
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