There's a Hole In the Kink Scene Shaped Exactly Like You

When you first develop an interest in BDSM, kink is like Schrödinger’s cat. Maybe when you open the box, you’ll learn that kink isn’t as appealing as you thought it would be. Maybe you’ll learn that it feels like home. The animal could be alive. Then again, it could also be dead. You'll only find out the truth when you open the box. This requires you to try terrifying things. Do some rope. Play with people at parties. Maybe even find yourself a partner. Schrödinger’s Kink says you only find your sexual identity when you Do the Deed.

The trouble is everyone around you is Doing the Deed better than you are. You can’t tie a fisherman’s knot, let alone a futo. You have no idea how to hold a flogger, and if you tried to cane someone you’d probably knock out the lights.

Schrödinger’s kink is worthlessness. I mean what do you really have to offer us? A million dominants have preceded you, and they have six toy shelves for every cable tie you own. Nobody needs you around here. We’ve all done perfectly well without you, so why would anything change now?

Your sense of uselessness is the radioactive atom that could kill your burgeoning inner kinkster in 30 seconds flat.

When I joined the scene back in 1856 while walking uphill barefoot in the snow, I met J at his first kink event. He was a hugger. He was so good at hugs that people began queuing for them that night. The scene that had been doing perfectly well without him recognised his usefulness instantly. Having discovered his sensual side, J brought a massage table to his next party. This time the queues were even longer.

When Schrodinger’s Kink had been let out of the box, it was as alive as an anti-vaxer at a Trump rally. K made a space for herself, too. She’s The Fire Person now, and she has her own damned queues. So does H.

Now H is a little different than the rest because he’s not particularly good at rope. He’s clumsy and makes a lot of mistakes. Even so, everyone wants to be tied by him because he’s cuddly. He’s accepting. He’s lovely to know. The kink scene embraces him because people rarely prioritise skill over huggability.

You don’t need to be good at BDSM. You just need to be good. Good people clear a niche for themselves in the kink scene every day.

J, H, and K had one simple trick: To find their kink identities, whatever they might be. We’re all different, and there’s a hole in the kink scene shaped exactly like you. We don’t require you to own toys. We don’t require you to have skills. We’re interested in who you are, not what you can do.

I have a friend who took six years to get her cat out of the box. She just couldn’t find her kink. She wasn’t just inexperienced. She was <gasp> potentially vanilla, but she hung around anyway. She knew she belonged. She just wasn’t quite sure how. Then one day she stumbled on her inner sadist, and I still ask myself how didn't see it in her before. It seems so obvious now.

Still, the kink scene embraced her vanilla self for six years because we don’t care what you can do. We don’t care what you’re into. We care who you are.