Dating Kinky
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This writing is now available as a podcast episode!

Which role is better?

To seduce someone, to feel desired, to have them want and need you?

Or to be on the other side, to be pursued, to feel yourself falling or sliding gracefully into the bliss of obsession and desire?

For me to be seduced, I need to feel the power of desire for ME—as an individual. not just for my breasts or my hips, but for the entirety of my being. And that takes someone getting to know me, which is a step in the seduction.

However, it’s my view that in order to be a good seducer, there needs to be an aspect of the seducer that is already seduced.

THEY need to be entranced. Led on by that desire, by their curiosity, by the need to see what is around the corner of this question, or what’s over the hill of that idea.

The very thing that make the seducer so enticing to me is when they have the strength to approach ad say “You have bewitched me, now I hope to return the favor.”

The power to admit that they have been seduced and to want to offer that same deliciously enveloping magic in return is what often makes them irresistible.

I love seducing people.

I love also being seduced.

For me, this is not an either/or question. I want to feel that I am both seducer and seduced at the same time.

What are your thoughts?

Do you prefer being seduced? Or seducing?

Do you see power inherent in one over the other? Do they fit in dominant or submissive roles (or other power labels) to you?

I’m looking forward to your perspectives.

Image by Mylene2401 from Pixabay

This writing is now available as a podcast episode!

I’d like to tell you a story of a woman I know.

Shelly (not her real name) has two coworkers, both women, 50 and 51, respectively. Shelly turns 50 in a couple of months.

One day, the three of them were out to lunch, and the conversation turned to their personal lives and relationships, as these things sometimes do, with details about their spouses (all are married to men) and love lives.

Afterwards, Shelly told me that her coworkers spent a good 20 minutes telling her that there must be something wrong with her and her husband.


Because they “act like they are in love, or something.”

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This writing is now available as a podcast episode!

Someone said in a comment on a previous post:

It is my experience that there are substantially more women that are looking for relationships, than something casual. Just have a look at Tinder. If I had a nickel for every girl that said, ‘Looking for something real, NO HOOKUPS’…well, I’d have a shit ton of nickels.

I’mma explain something to you. You’re a man. Your experience is pretty much what you make of it, when it comes to women.

My experience as a woman (and in talking to women, it’s a common experience) is:

First of all, if I look on Tinder, most of the people of all genders say they are not there for hookups.

Which, when I am, is saddening.

Second, I don’t ‘do hookups,’ because the way some interpret hookups is WAY TOO LITERAL. Like, “Lemme get your name, then touch your girlie bits.”

That just won’t work.

When we WANT to get the D Delivery, we want it. We want it from someone we will not hate ourselves for, after, though.

And that takes a modicum of effort.

I make a habit of spending 30 minutes each weekday learning something.

Or, at least reading outside of my usual interests, following interesting links, etc.

Today, I clicked on a link to [improve my communication][], and while most of it was quite good, I’d think, one thing really stood out for me.

Questions about specifics lead people to give you answers that are not generic.

Example: Don’t ask, “What was fun about your trip?” Instead, drill down and ask, “What was the single most fun moment of the trip?”

Oh, please no. Don’t ask me about:

  • Most fun
  • Favorite
  • Best ever
  • coolest thing

I may be a total freak of nature, but my brain doesn’t work like that.

Sure, I have a few glib answers to favorite movie (Blazing Saddles) and best album of all time (Bat Out of Hell), but even those don’t apply all of the time, because reasons.

And asking me my favorite is a good way to shut down a conversation.

My brain stops. Or doesn’t stop. It overloads, trying to compare so many amazing pieces of my life that I enjoy/love/adore for disparate reasons in different times of my life, to narrow it down to a sing unrevocable TRUTH.

And I get hung up.

Maybe it’s me.

Perhaps I need more RAM.

Or, perhaps I don’t filter things as well as others do. Like, even tiny pleasures suddenly crowd into my head when people ask me my favorite sexual experience ever.

  • Was it the first Bad Dragon play Pet and I did, and the discovery of ‘scaled for pleasure’ as a thing?
  • The 3-hour kinky threesome that left me aphasic?
  • The wild roll of a full night of it, starting with a hot tub in the snow?
  • The time I cried from overwhelming love as he moved in me?
  • That quick (and hard) ass fuck in front of a mirror?

How do I choose? I don’t. I can’t.

Instead, ask me what makes me feel filled up. Or what make me laugh during sex. Or what about different toys makes me love them (or not).

Oh, I know these are not as easy as “What is your favorite…” and I’m a tiny bit sorry about that. But not a lot.

After all, I’m giving you fair warning.