Ak. I’ve done it. Signed up with a dating site. I’m half excited, half horrified. I feel like those women of a short decade or two ago, waiting in quiet, clock loud drawing rooms to be introduced to suitable young men. Smoothing their sensible tweed over untouched knees. Mopping palms against the chitz cushions and staring at patterns in the carpet. I feel like something on display, with a return policy and a best-before date. Like a coat that doesn’t fit anymore. Secondhand. Pre-worn. Previously-loved. The euphemisms of things recycled.
Or maybe I just feel vulnerable. And I don’t like it.
But I’m kinda proud of myself for being brave. For being brave when I don’t really want to feel awkward and shave my legs religiously and worry about my armpits and make banal small talk. When I don’t want to be rejected or have to say, “thanks, but your navy blue stokies make me want to retch”. But there’s excitement too. Possibility. The unexpected. Where maybe, just maybe, this opened door will lead to something good. Something new. Something different.
And then I see this:
Seeking people for social contacts, friendship and possibly more who have an interest in bondage, discipline, spankings, sadomasochism, leather or rubber fetishes, power play, chains, ropes and other related BDSM activities.
I’ve got a feeling this is going to be interesting.
P.S. why do I give you guys the ammunition.
P.P.S. Oh, the irony. My ex is on my first page list of matches.