And Then My Kink Label Got Heavier

I’ve been thinking about a revolutionary concept in the land of kink. What would happen if I scrapped all the dom-sub-brat-hedonist labels and started my romances the way vanilla people did? What if I didn’t try to figure out the intricacies of my role within a kink framework until we’d gotten to know our dynamic on a vanilla level?

What if we treated one another like people instead of roles? What if he chose me because he likes my head full of books and not because I’m a sub? What if I chose him because he likes pina coladas and getting caught in the rain instead of because he’s a monogamous D-type?

This issue of labels has been getting to me of late. I used to see them as utilitarian: how could we know if we were compatible unless we knew how we preferred things to play out sexually?

But then my label got heavier.

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It got heavier and dirtier and uglier, and it grew until it was bigger than me. I began to disappear behind it to such an extent that I saw myself first as a sub and only second as a woman. I’d told men a thousand times not to treat me like a fetish factory, and there I was treating myself like a fetish factory on their behalf.

After a year or two of floating around a community founded on sexuality, sex got into my head. Sex held a coup de tat in my brain and then became the dictator of my relationships. Even Facebook figured me out. Of all the labels it applied to me, “hypersexual” was the most embarrassing. I earned that particular bot-judgement because I was spending more time on Fetlife than any other site.

I still spend more time there than on any other site because I adore this community, but I spend a lot more time out in the world these days than I once did. There, the sunset doesn’t give a damn which side of the slash I’m on or precisely how many hours a day I put in there. And so I’ve found I’ve been shedding my label more and more.

I want to go back to a life in which kink is the icing, not the cake. I want to go back to a time when a man chose to be with me long before he found out if I was any kind of sub at all.

People will tell me that I’m being naïve, that thinking romance can work without kink labels is too idealistic. I don’t remember being taught to chase anything except my ideals, though, so I’m good with that label.

I would rather be single than with a man who chose me for my sexuality ahead of my individuality. I’m in no rush because the sunset is beautiful and there is love in my world.

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