It’s Wednesday night and the house (CM) is virtually empty. I hang out here way too much, but living in Bumfuque, AR offers little opportunity to find submissives or playmates (and by that I mean someone to casually smack around not screw). Not that CM offers much more, my batting average is poor at best. I’m a nice person (I loose a lot of ‘em because I’m too nice), friendly, conversational, polite (even when scolding, nothing quite like a good scolding from a soft-spoken smiling Domme), and flexible. I am other things also but the list has to end somewhere for the sake of moving forward with this writing. Anyway, where was I?
There is this fine dance (not a special beautiful dance but one with a very narrow line of demarcation, and if one steps over it there will be hell to pay). So back to the fine dance… we all walk this fine line of social interactivity with each other. We see a profile that catches our eye, we look at it knowing that person will know we are looking at it. We see something blood curdling in their list of interests like maybe ohhh I don’t know maybe they like Catholicism and it flips us out because we are a recovering Catholic. So we immediately discard an otherwise perfect person. Hmph. Maybe said Catholicism is an interest because they majored in comparative religion or it’s just a typo. We discard and we discard fast. THEN they look at us and jeezopeezo they send a message. Do we read it? Ignore it? Delete it without reading it? do we reply? or ignore? If we do reply are we hateful or nice? If we are nice will they persist in their advances?
Advances!? Holy cat hair, it’s a freakin’ (short) message from a total stranger, and we have worked ourselves into a tizzy. Lets elaborate.
Lets say we look at this slightly interesting persons profile. They have a nice bod or a great smile or a twinkle in their eye and their profile doesn’t have anything on it that squicks us out! Way cool. Now what… we looked… they will know… what if they think we suck… and they ignore us…?! ACK!
Back up a sec. We look, they look, it’s cool, we chat, we like, we say hey let’s do the phone thing, it‘s all good… then what. (Please notice I did not end that sentence with a question mark. It’s a statement.) We want to talk more with this person but how can we?! They will think we are needy. Maybe we are needy – we sure don’t want anyone to know that do we. We might just really have hit it off really well and we both want to talk more, neither one wants to appear needy. So everyone involved backs off, takes a Wednesday night off, pretending to be in church (especially if you live in the Midwest), and gawd forbide let it be a Friday or Saturday night, NO ONE with any self-respect would actually chat on a dating site on Friday or Saturday night! Who in their right mind would admit they don’t have a date? Wait a darn second… isn’t that why we are here (insert squinty eye here _> …). Isn’t it? To get a date, a partner, a fuck buddy, a battering ram, some jerk off material, a piece of ass. Yea, it is, but we can’t actually admit that now can we.
So we back off, then we wonder why the other person hasn’t jumped in and initiated something. They have also backed off because we are all doing the same silly chicken dance. We fluff up our feathers, piss on a bush and make some noise. Then we cower. And hope for Mister or Miss perfect to magically appear before our eyes and carry us away on a beautiful white horse. Is finding a dinner date in the vanilla world this difficult?
Here in cyber-land we can peruse dozens, hundreds, thousands of persons of every known sexual persuasion and discard 99 out of every one hundred for something trivial, some minor blemish that we would normally overlook. “I hate red hair!” we squeal as we delete yet another perfect person except for that damn imperfection of red hair. If we had met them in a real-time setting and they were perfect except for the red hair we would get to see the person smile, hear their lovely voice, smell them, intercept their pheromones and see how they tie their shoe laces. They would place a hand on our shoulder and we would melt in spite of the red hair. Not so here in cyber-land. We deletedeletedelete until our delete button is worn out.
Then we bitch and moan and groan because “isn’t anyone real!?”. “Where are all the real people?” we demand. Deleted. Because of a minor flaw or worse because we can’t admit we ARE looking for another human being and we are lonely and we would give our left nut to get the shit beaten out of us just once please and thank you!
How to step out of the dance… I don’t know. I have experienced it so many times it could pay the National debt. Regardless, almost every conversation one starts in this environment will fade away like the morning dew because most of us are afraid to meet a stranger and run headlong into a possible perfect person. Is that a red hair?
There is the group that only interacts in dungeons or at play parties, for the sake of safety (a very legitimate reason I might like to add) so they avoid the loners who hate the BDSM community at large and theoretically COULD be stalkers, molesters, worse! because without the safety net of a community and the self policing a community can do it is much easier for that kind of thing to happen.
Then there are the lone practitioners, they shun the drama and political bullshit we all have to put up with when we are a part of the much larger whole. There is no perfect world.
All this has been hashed out many times by many writers far more eloquent than myself.
What’s my point? LMFAO! I’ll be damned if I know. It’s Wednesday night, I don’t go to church, I don’t have a person to toy with and quite frankly I miss that.
