All kinds of conversations

I had a day full of perverts old and new yesterday, and lots of discussion.

I started out with a breakfast date with a good looking black man who messaged me from a kinky Internet dating site. It's been a while since I've actually been on a date with someone I've never met before. I've been selecting from friendship groups quite a lot and am attempting to break out of that due to the general lack of available, suitable submissive men. He was a little late, but apologetic, and earned bonus points for looking like his photograph, if not better. We chatted for a while over coffee, about the usual things: our kinks, what we do for a living, our passions. The conversation felt a little strange, as if neither of us was especially at ease. It felt almost like a job interview, which I suppose in some ways these kind of meet ups do.

I am appalling at small talk, I've never really seen the point, and he appeared to be a little on edge - it took me the longest time to get him to crack a smile and longer still to laugh at one of my crappy jokes. We walked around town a little, and I tried to get a feel for him, as best as is possible within a few hours. I found him attractive, he was interesting, ambitious and we had kinks in common certainly, but there was a disconnect, perhaps because of his "newness", perhaps because I'm not sure how much space I have in my life for a completely new partner. Was I feeling awkward and just imposing that on him?

But there was also something else. And I'm still turning it over in my mind. When we discussed his kinks it turns out he is interested in submitting specifically to a Caucasian woman for racially orientated humiliation play. He said the word "nigger". I tried not to squirm. I tried to - and am still trying to - put this in the context of YKIOK. I don't know if I can do it, I don't know if I want to do it, or whether it does anything for me as a dominant - the specificity of humiliation usually means that buttons and triggers are variable according to different people, but this one makes me feel awkward (never a good thing) and it also doesn't feel particularly personal: would any Caucasian woman do?

So, still reeling a little, I met with Dandy for some much needed hugs and assurances about being neither strange nor a stranger. Unfortunately, he's still sore from his own personal disappointments and we ended up having a rather unsatisfying conversation trying to work out where we stood and whether he was still interested in me. I want to support him as a friend but I also miss him as a lover, which he doesn't want or is unable to deliver. It wasn't really clear. I'm not sure where that really leaves me. After a no-score draw of circling repetition we went in search of pastures new to yet another coffee place to chat with more perverts, including the poorly but always beautiful Mannequin and realised that I had missed her rather a lot.

Then to dinner with Boy Wonder and Majeste and we got to discussing the malaise that is wrapping itself around Kinksville at the moment, and something I am feeling certainly. It's more than a preponderance of colds, sniffles and sadness. I tried to describe it as everyone currently facing the wrong way in a complicated dance. Person X likes person Y who wants person Z but not in the same way that they really would prefer. If it were a piece of string I might spend an hour or two untangling it, but you can't do that with people and their feelings. And some things cannot be fixed.

By the end of it all, I was a very confused mix of confusion, happiness and sadness. Confusion for my reaction to the date this morning: I'm not at all sure what it says about me or what I'm going to do about it. I was very happy for having spent a day with so many of my friends, and to be reminded of how much I am loved, wanted and liked. Sad for the fact that I am missing some of those things that I really want, including regular sex, romance and the stability and quiet energy of any sort of "fixed" relationship that is definitely mine.

I took a piece of advice once offered to me in my teens whilst at University, by a very Scottish friend of mine (say it in your best accent, it works better: "go home, have a wank, you will feel better in the morning."

He was right, you know.