One year

One year ago I joined a German slave register. A few weeks after I went to my first munch and maybe two months after my first kinky sex. Definately nothing I would call bdsm. If I remember correctly, the sex was just a bit rough and I had a cucumber shoved up my arse.

Several encounters like that followed. No more cucumbers, but plenty of pseudo-dominant male fantasies came true.

I discovered my kink for doctors and men in suits. Realised that an awful lot of men still have pictures of their ex - girlfriends around. Or that they are cheating. I don’t fuck men who say they are in a relationship, but girlfriends I don’t know about?! I guess there isn’t that much of a difference really.

I had men with cuddly toys in their bed and ones that didn’t want me to stand up while taking a shower. There were men I’m still seriously scared of because they confused pure violence with bdsm. Others I actually really liked, but casual sex is rarely a good start for something like a relationship. Not that this was something they were actually looking for. I was.

There’s only one person from that journey that I still truly care for. Because he cared for me. Helped me to take care of myself. Be rational and reflective, without losing faith and the love deep inside me.

I told myself for a while that I was simply looking for experiences, but I wasn’t. I was looking for someone to love and for someone that happened to satisfy my kinks. Very late I realised that this wasn’t how that was going to happen.

That’s when I started my book. And my conscious journey that (sort of) led me to understand who I am and what I want. Yes, I have a book that contains the names of the people I had some form of sex with. I’m still convinced that this is a fabulous idea that will spare me an awkward moment in the future. I won’t be introduced to a colleague and wonder if I slept with him or not because he looks so familiar. I’ll just have a look at my book. Not that I carry it around with me or anything… but still. It’s like a very organized diary. Dates. Names. Numbers. Rational. I find it fascinating to look at now.

I’m still amazed at how many experiences I managed to fit into this past year. It felt like a long journey and in the end I was tired of travelling.

That’s when I arrived. And I stayed.