I apologize for the few weeks of radio silence. It has been one stressful, hellacious moment after another. In my limited downtime, I wasn’t doing or thinking anything even remotely sexy, so my blogging took a major hit.
But never fear! I have not forgotten you, gentle readers. And I finally got to doing some sexy things. And today I want to talk about the definition of “normal”.
“There’s no such thing as normal.” We’ve heard it a million times. If you’re like me, the repetition of that phrase leaves you in serious doubt as to the intelligence of anyone who says it anymore. Of COURSE there’s such a thing as “normal.” “Normal” is a social construct, meant to differentiate between what is socially allowed and common, what is socially ambiguous and maybe less common, and what is just way the fuck out there in left field. And “normal” is different everywhere you go.
When someone says “there’s no such thing as normal,” I believe, most of the time, they mean to say “there are so many variations and everyone is so different, there’s really no strong baseline for being not weird.” Which is a bit more accurate, more long-winded, and really not preferable. Per my flimsy definition above, I call it a social construct. However, it’s not just limited to social. Normal is also an individual construct. What may be normal to me could be completely batshit insane to others. (Which I quickly learned in college when discussing my childhood.)
Our own experiences and beliefs affect what we see and how we interpret it. (Duh, SubWife) When our understanding and interpretation of an issue or an idea changes drastically, we call that a paradigm shift.
I went from thinking vanilla sex was “normal” to being unable to tolerate watching or reading about vanilla sex within the span of a year. I went from thinking “how can anyone get aroused while being beaten?” to thinking “how can people get aroused without someone getting beaten?” My paradigm shifted into a whole other galaxy.
I used to LOVE The Notebook. The movie came out when I was a teenager. I watched, I cried, I forced boyfriends to sit through it til they cried from having to watch it because they hated it so much. Now I watch it and think “how is she not crying in boredom at this sex scene? I mean, really.”
I went through a very looooooong phase of obsession with the original Trueblood novels (fuck you for laughing at me) and I have to say, the scenes I’m into now are a lot more “mmmm Eric” versus the “mmm Bill” that they used to be. I roll my eyes every time Sookie and Bill are going through their romantic crap. I feel like the teenager screaming “TEAM ERIC!” And while I realize it’s a bit loony to argue “But Eric’s sexier because he’s more dangerous”, I still don’t understand how people don’t automatically give in because clearly I have won the argument.
The first time I read “Diary of a Submissive” by Sophie Morgan, I was brand-spanking new to BDSM smut. I wanted something real. And I went to bed feeling somewhat traumatized. I went back and re-read it recently and found myself much less mortified. I was still annoyed, however, because while many of the things that had bothered me before no longer left me clutching my pearls, many of them still gave me the icks. Let’s just say I’m never going to be into rimming, and I am not likely to stand in line to be tied to a chair and brutally whipped to the point of choking on my snot in order to get off. I’m also not huge into humiliation, I realized. For example, I don’t particularly care for the idea of being handed over to my Dom’s girlfriend so she can try her hand at switching. (That being said, Master and I had a lovely time last night with a scene that involved lots of calling me a whore and slut and teasingly admonishing me for getting off on the shit he was saying and doing. But I digress.)
So then I moved on to Morgan’s sequel, “No Ordinary Love Story”. I’m taking this one a bit better so far. Scenes that would have left me saying “nope, that’s it, I’m vanilla” have me going “Hmm, locked in stocks while having saliva/lipstick/precum smeared on your face. Interesting.” and “Maybe I would like to try the cage a time or two. It doesn’t have to be in the context of pet play.” Then there are scenes where I turn to Master and say “if you EVER tell me to lick your cum off the floor, I’m leaving.” But again, I find myself being more grossed out and quippy rather than mortified and needing distance from the material.
With kink being so deeply entwined with my sexuality, I find it exceptionally difficult to have sexuality without kink. However, I have almost no problem having kink without sexuality. It’s in pretty much every aspect of my day-to-day life now. I take my collar off before I get in the shower, just to put it back on and not take it off again til my next shower. I’m getting Brazilian waxes on the reg now because Master likes the way it feels (and I like the way it looks in lace panties). I reach out to and speak with other people in the lifestyle about things other than sex. I occasionally feel motivated to serve Master outside of a scene, and reach out to do so in a non-sexual manner.
It’s just life. It’s just how I live. And if it weren’t for the “normal” people calling it “kink,” I wouldn’t even realize I was doing anything different than everyone else. If it weren’t for “normal” people calling it “kink”, we might all be bored to tears by The Notebook.
What would have been completely out of the question for me two years ago is now a part of my daily routine. And it’s so pervasive, it touches every aspect of my life. And except for those who we have told, no one else is the wiser as to what Master and I do in the bedroom. And sometimes the living room. Or the bathroom. Whips, spankings, a sore ass, rope that is STILL tied to the headboard of our bed weeks later for some reason, are part of my normal. And they’re so much fun, I honestly think they should be EVERYBODY’S normal.
So yes, there IS such a thing as “normal”. But whoever thinks that they’re it, are wrong. And whoever thinks they aren’t normal are wrong too. Except me. I am normal. The rest of you are just varying degrees of not me. 😉