I have three FWBs who are not kinky. One of them is entirely tolerant of my affinity for the darker side of sexuality, and the other two have their judgments about it. At first, I was okay with that, but as time has passed, I find it is beginning to wear on me.

I fully support anyone’s right to have an opinion about what I do, including opinions that are opposite of my own. However, my desire to continue having relationships with people who judge me and my kinks is waning. If I can’t be real with someone, if I have to hide pieces of who I am, if I have to gird myself against disapproving looks and comments, eh, I don’t want to deal with that, not by choice anyway. People are gonna think what they think and say what they say, but I don’t have to sleep with them. So, I’m rethinking my non-kink connections. Not sure what to do with them, if it’s healthy to continue. . .

The two specific things that bother me are reproachful looks at any marks that might be left on my body from a scene, and comments that bring into question my mental stability for engaging in sadomasochistic activities. Bitch, puhleeeeez! People participate in sadomasochism every day – boxing, martial arts, football, weight-lifting, marriage (ha!) – and they get hurt and walk away with visible manifestations of physical abuse. No one calls them “perverted” or “sick”. They’re just “sporty” and “athletic”.

My brother plays ice hockey, and participates in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. He gets bruised and banged up all the time. He’s even had to go to the hospital. No one questions his sanity. I had a friend who suffered an aneurysm from lifting too much in the gym. But that’s socially acceptable. Why? What’s the difference? What I engage in with my partners is just as consensual as team sports, if not more. In sports, there are no safewords or negotiations. I could walk away with a non-consensual concussion playing hockey. I could suffer broken bones playing football. The likelihood of that happening during one of my scenes is slim. Extraordinarily slim. I’m not saying accidents don’t happen. They do, absolutely, but I believe they happen far more often in organized sports than they do in BDSM. And I’m the deranged one.

Well, fuck. Look at the time. I gotta get to the gym, run on a stepper for an hour, and cause extreme fatigue, a moderate amount of pain, and an endorphin-release in my body, ’cause that’s a totally understandable activity. Wankers.

Original post by Charles J. Chinwannabutr