“Stop saying you’re not kinky. Just because you don’t think you are doesn’t mean you’re not.”

And I realized that I was. I am kinky.

But, for many years, I never defined myself as kinky:

• I did not play the way others play.
• I did not have the toys that others own.
• I did not wear the costume that others wear.
• I did not attend the events that others attended.

Witnessing scenes that pushed boundaries, acts of personal moral ambiguity, and visions of depravity. When you surround yourself with people who easily identify with being part of a kink community – those who’s power exchange is vastly more pronounced than yours – it can be easy to feel that deviation.

And yet, fundamentally, I am kinky.

My mistake is that I was comparing myself. To my friends. To people I saw at play spaces. To the stories I heard about. When we compare ourselves to others, we sometimes lose sight of ourselves and our relational perspectives. By defining myself as I was doing with others, I was shorting myself. Kink doesn’t come in one particular flavor or even flavors, but a vast array of delights that seem endless. Such things aren’t binary.

It wasn’t until a friend reminded me that what we see in others doesn’t define us or who we are. Just because I don’t do those things doesn’t diminish my passions towards other experiences. It’s okay not to feel the pleasures that others may indulge in. I enjoy things that they may have no interest in. And that’s okay. Focus on what turns you on. My pleasures are mine and to those I choose to share with.

You’re kinky, trust yourself on this.