I waded through a lot of muck to find my people, but they were in the kink scene all along

I joined Fetlife to hide behind these black and red pixels while I tried to understand my past. Kink was worthy of shame and thus could not be shared. I knew I was sick. I just didn’t know how to recover, and so I read post after post in an effort to figure out what had gone wrong in my first BDSM relationship.

I saw blood. I saw scars. I saw many terrifying things. What I didn’t see was someone who could explain the cracks in my history. I waded through a lot of muck to find my people, with no idea they would create a seismic shift that would change the very fabric of who I was. Kinksters were still pariahs to me in those days, but then I ruined it all by agreeing to meet one of you for coffee.

After we’d made plans, she texted to tell me I’d known her all along. She was a part of the local writing scene--not a toxic outcast, but a highly respected, perfectly normal part of my own social circle. That terrified me even more than it had when I thought she was a stranger, but I showed up anyway.

That’s how I landed up at my first play party--accompanied by a spanking-new kink friend. Before I got there, I trawled through my memory checking off every single mortifying person I might meet there: my GP? My mother’s best friend? My ex-boss? Holy hell, let’s just cancel this thing and go back to hiding behind pixels.

I didn’t cancel in the end. I didn’t meet my GP there, either, but I did meet a few people who became ever-present in my life. We spoke about The Walking Dead. We spoke about tattoos. We spoke about all those ordinary things kinksters wouldn’t possibly be interested in. My shame shifted a tiny bit that night, but of course, I wouldn’t go to another event because kink was for couples, not crowds.

But I did go to another event. That summer, I did kink dinner clubs, kinky poker nights, and kinky parties. By the time Christmas had arrived, I was spending more time with kinky people than anyone else. I was also spending a lot less time feeling alone. The spanking-new kink friend who'd taken me to my first party is still one of my people eight years later.

That mortifying fear I had of meeting a vanilla person through kink happened, too—three times. The awfulness I expected didn’t happen, though. Instead, we became much closer. I spent a weekend playing with rope with a “vanilla” friend I'd met before I'd even discovered BDSM. He wasn't the first or the last. You'll be amazed at how friendships deepen when you find out you share sexual proclivities.

That year I travelled 30 hours to meet kink friends on another continent, and it was every bit as epic as it sounds. These are my family members. They’ve seen me through sickness and death, and they will always be in my life.

So if you’ve joined Fetlife to hide behind these black and red pixels, go to the parties. Do the dinners. Meet someone kinky for coffee. It will probably be the most therapeutic and rewarding thing you ever do.

Many of us are toxic.
Many of us are cruel.
We hurt one another, but if you find your way past all the predators, you might meet the most supportive family you’ve ever had.