What If You See Your Dad At a Kink Event?

So you’re new to BDSM and when you hear the words “Kink Event,” Jaws music plays. What if you see your dad in a corner getting ball-punched by a leather man? What if your boss finds out you’re into rope? What if you find out BDSM isn’t really for you? You’re not really all that kinky, so you wouldn’t fit in. Kink isn’t all that important to you, anyway. You’re just here to get your cock sucked.

Or to make friends.

Or find smut.

Ever notice how “what if” never has a happy ending? Ever wonder why you never think, “What if everything goes gorgeously and the kink scene brings all my fantasies to life?”

We’ve all asked those “what ifs,” but most of us found out that events were about as intimidating as walking a puppy dog around the living room. I’ve done events on two continents, in two states, and three cities, but first I did them a thousand times in my imagination. That last one never quite lived up to its own hype. My first play party was less "Eyes Wide Shut" than "Saturday Afternoon Barbecue." It was terrifying to walk through the door, but within 10 minutes, I felt right at home.

That’s all you’ve got to put in: 10 minutes and a shit-ton of needless fear. I’ll give you a few accurate “what ifs”:

What if you keep your job because your boss is as kinky as you are?

What if you find out that BDSM is as compelling as you think it might be?

What if you meet the best friends you’ve ever had?

What if they become family?

What if you fall in love with a woman with green eyes and a slutty mind?

If you ask around, you’ll find those five things are far more likely than your fears. If you’re terrified, ask us what the scene has done for us. No, really. Ask.

I’ll start. My local play parties felt like home an hour after I walked in the door. Those in a different country were even less intimidating. We tied things while singing along to Sesame Street songs. I met sadistic men and explored kinks I didn’t even know existed. Not all of them fit me, but most of them did. None of them made me feel muddy inside the way I thought they might. I did run into someone from my vanilla world at a play party. That fear came true, but he was into kink, too, so I got my happy ending there as well. He taught me how to tie a futo in Missoula.

A lot of new kinksters show up in my inbox spouting all the terrors of BDSM events, and I never get tired of saying, “Just fucking go.” The kink scene is awesome and so is BDSM. Jaws music, it turns out, is just a couple of benign notes, and the shark is made of fibreglass.

Just. Go.