In my never-ending quest over the last week to find as many book bloggers as possible willing to read and review Knots, I find myself in a strange place. I’m about to guest blog on a BDSM book review blog.
I don’t think I’ve been this nervous since I gave birth for the first time. Thoughts assault me—all the what if’s. What if I screw up their blog so badly with my post that they lose all their followers? What if I say something dumber than usual (not likely, but ya never know)? What if the one and only Zach Braff Chicken Little was right and my sky really is falling (did you see Melancholia—it could happen)? What if the BDSM community comes after me with pitchforks—not because it’s fun and they enjoy it, but because I truly made a mockery of all they hold dear? What if I’m a poser and I don’t realize it? What if I’m the poster girl for bad guest bloggers anonymous? See? I have issues today . . .
There’s something frightening about going up against a panel of experts, and this feels like the Olympics for BDSM books. Will I score a 1.5 because my dismount was messy? Had to be the dismount, because my mother disguised as the East German judge gave me a score of… Oh wait. That’s one of my favorite holiday movies, When Harry Met Sally—not my life today.
Okay, so I make light, but really, I wonder if I’m capable of talking about my foray into the lifestyle. Will my experience matter to anyone else? Will they care about how long it took me to figure out who I was? Will it open discussion? Will it end third world hunger one thong and flogger at a time? Probably not, but I’ve discovered recently the reason I crave speaking to others in the lifestyle is because there’s this sense of understanding. No one judges anyone else for having different kinks or fixations. No one’s going to say I’m beyond repulsive because I’m an anal slut and have been for a long time. Not that they’ll want to compare anal bead sizes either, but still . . . You know what I mean.
Some of the absolute best people I’ve met have been in this lifestyle because of their open-mindedness and inclusive attitude. It doesn’t matter if I long to be tied up, gagged and thrown in a trunk—without bruising please and only after the trunk’s been vacuumed out, ‘cause it gets dirty in there. They get that a fantasy is healthy, and that there’s an art to living them out.
So, does that make guest blogging any easier? A little. It’s nice to know their whips won’t be aimed at me punitively. Where else in life can I find that? As a writer, I get flayed from time to time about my writing through negative reviews. There are always going to be reviewers that have no qualms about making dancing pictures with their derogatory words that say, “WTF was this? This writer is crazy, yo!” And all the while, they laugh.
That’s fine. I try to avoid those the way I do a frothing-mouthed pit bull, chasing down people in the street. No thanks. I’ll take my pain with a side of orgasm instead.
So, the moral here is this—only guest blog when caught up in a moment of insanity. Only tie up your partner when they’re sleep deprived and horny as hell, unless you’re in the lifestyle and trained. Only eat Rice Krispies after putting sugar on it—the plain stuff is, well… not quite vanilla, but just boring. And only—I repeat—only read this current post because you want to feel my pain. Last of all—only watch Melancholia if you want to experience what a current day, acid trip might be like (this movie is disturbing in so many ways and odder than I can express—Kirsten Dunst couldn’t save it, and neither could Keifer Sutherland).
Crossing fingers I survive this guest blogging thingy. *toothy grin* Enjoy your weekend. I’ll be stewing over my guest post. ;D