It's Not a Lifestyle

I have two exceedingly frightened men in my inbox right this minute. Both have floated around on Fetlife for some time and are developing the courage to open up to The Lifestyle™. They’re scared that it might not fit them. What if they can’t adopt The Ways of the Truly Kinky™? What if the change required of them is too extreme?

I know how it feels. A decade ago, I, too, was trying to develop the courage to open up to The Lifestyle™. In the years that followed, I learned that it’s not a lifestyle at all. Kinky people aren’t a single species with shared habits and beliefs. As long as you’re safe, respectful, and consensual, we won’t require you to change.

Kinky people are not a conglomerate. We’re individuals who occasionally get together in the same room to eat SpanishRed’s cupcakes before she even has the chance to try one, you assholes.

Your Lifestyle could consist of tickling, glitter, and clown porn if that’s what you’re into.
Your Lifestyle could involve self-ties that belong on Etsy.
Your Lifestyle could involve vanilla sex.
Your Lifestyle could consist of celibacy and cupcakes. Mine certainly is these days, and nobody minds.

I know it’s easy to see us as a horde, but we’re really just a bunch of unique people who quite like doing things together. When the party’s over, we all go home and live The Lifestyles™ we invented for our own damn selves.

Coming to kink events ≠ adopting a new, prescribed life.
Attending play parties ≠ doing it the way the locals do.

Kink is much better when you do it your own (consensual) way, even if it does include stealing my cupcakes and watching clown porn. This is why we have a Fetlife group called “It’s Not a Fucking Lifestyle” and another called “Actually, I’m Mainly in the Lifestyle to Get My Brains Fucked Out.” Because it’s okay to be here to get your brains fucked out, and it’s okay to be here even though you don’t want your brains fucked out.

Does anyone remember Pointillism? It was a movement of artists who decided to make paintings out of millions of dots for some reason. When you viewed the work from a distance, you saw women picnicking at the lake and cliffs yawning over the ocean, but if you viewed the work from close quarters, you saw none of those things—just a bunch of random dots.

The kink scene is like pointillism. From a distance, you think we’re a single body, but the longer you stay, the more you realise we’re really just a bunch of individual dots. Every dot has its own lifestyle, so you’re not joining the kink scene in order to become something you’re not. You’re joining to find yourself. You’re joining to expose yourself to people who don’t shame you for your sexuality.

Maybe Simon will get you into rope. Maybe Julie will convince you to try impact play. Maybe Jack will suggest you try a topping scene, but mostly, you’re just opening up your world to new possibilities.

None of those possibilities are requirements.

When you attend your first play party, you aren’t scaling the Everest of lifestyle changes. You’re just going to a damned party. When you get home at the end of the night, you might feel freer to be your authentic self, but your life won’t change irrevocably unless you want it to. This is your journey. We’re mainly just here to talk about the zombie apocalypse, anyway.

What? The zombies are totally coming. Just be quiet.