You were among the first people I met in the kink community. You explained sub drop to me and comforted me when I didn't yet understand what I was feeling. 

You welcomed me into your home, treated me like Family. How many laughs around that pool? How many scenes in that basement? I remember one where bottoms walked around in a circle in a perverted type of musical chairs while tops hit us with riding crops. I think that was the first time S kissed me. 

I based one of my favorite early characters on you. Including so many of my favorite personalities was my way of honoring the community that had welcomed me. How could I resist portraying someone who could turn men's balls into pin cushions with such glee? 

We had similar backgrounds with restrictive religions. As a result, we had each come into kink a little later than others. I felt seen. I felt validated. You understood, you listened, and reassured me that I wasn't alone. 

I also remember when the scenes got darker. A few even took some left turns. I chalked it all up to you having a bad night, an error in judgment. Certainly forgivable. And yet, the shine was starting to wear off our friendship.

And then things really started to fall apart. A schism in our formerly close-knit community. I remember you leading the charge. I remember the deliberate antagonism and lies. I remember you choosing the side of a predator and the sense of betrayal some of us felt. By the time you were actually gone, it was a relief. 

I think I've seen you once since? A funeral for a mutual friend. We barely acknowledged each other. I was distracted by the loss and barely registered that you were there. 

This past weekend, I could no longer ignore you so easily. So weird to come face to face with you and feel ... nothing. None of the former affection, none of the love. I could only go cold and numb. I realize now that it was a defense mechanism against your own frostiness. 

I wonder now what was the point? What were you hoping to achieve? Maybe you were hoping no one would be left who would remember you and what you did. Maybe you came to compare us to your new group. Maybe you thought we couldn't succeed without you. Or that you would be welcomed back with whatever the kink equivalent is to a fatted calf. 

Were you disappointed? Is that why you fled so quickly? Maybe you got some of the same flashbacks I did. 

Actually, I hope I am lingering in your mind the same way you're lingering in mine. I hope you remember and I hope you are aware of what you've lost. Because I'm good. I have actual supportive people around me who I cherish. 

I'm not sorry you're no longer one of them. 

I first watched the film Girl, Interrupted shortly after it came out in 1999. But until this past weekend, I hadn't revisited it in probably 20 years.
 
In 1999, I was married, something that seemed like the right thing. The natural thing. It’s what was supposed to happen, right? Settle down, move to suburbia, have a grill in the backyard, and maybe have a kid or two.
 
Spoiler alert – none of that happened. The marriage itself only lasted about three years. And devastated as I was to see it end, I would come to realize that ending it was the actual right thing. For me, marriage to a man – especially a vanilla man who only reinforced my belief that wanting to be tied up was weird – was not natural.
 
And one of the first clues, looking back, was my response to a scene in Girl, Interrupted. In my memory, Angelina Jolie leans over and places a passionate kiss on Wynona Ryder while they’re passengers in a van. The reality, I was rather shocked to discover, was that it was Ryder who leaned over and placed a quick, almost chaste peck on Jolie’s lips.
 
Huh, I thought. This seemed like a bigger deal at the time.
 
Because it was a bigger deal then. That is, it was to me. I got pants feelings. For the first time. About women.
 
I remember mentioning it to my then husband though I doubt I expressed quite how big a deal it was for me. I'm not sure I could have explained it to anyone else then. I barely understood it myself. All I knew was that there was a stirring that had never happened without a man being involved - or some type of bondage. I also remember him shrugging it off, possibly laughing. Because of course he did. He had probably gotten pants feelings too. He probably found my response cute.
 
It wasn’t cute.
 
All my life, I’d been told that the worst thing you could turn out to be was gay. And even at the age of 27, I didn’t yet realize that bisexuality was a real thing. Of course I’d heard the word, but it always felt the first step in coming out as gay. Elton John had come out as bisexual and look how that turned out. Only weirdos claimed to be bisexual and then it was just safer than saying you were gay.
 
It would take me several more years to realize that being bi was a very real, very valid sexuality.
 
My immediate response, however, was to compose a list. I called it my “If List.” That is to say, if I were a lesbian, I’d totally want to bang…these women.
 
First on it was Angelina Jolie. She held the top spot right up until the list was dissolved. Shakira, Salma Hayek, and others were all added in short order. Funny that now I can barely remember who all I included. Pretty sure Gina Torres got added eventually though, possibly Sara Ramirez. All I am sure of is that my type seemed to be petite, curvy women. Preferably of Latin descent.
 
Like so much about me, however, my type in women would evolve too. It wasn’t long before I also became attracted to more androgynous, even butch, women. Early in 2007, I would meet someone who would shatter everything I had ever believed about gender and what I was attracted to. They presented mostly female at the time despite an androgynous build and height of just over six feet. I have watched them dance with gender ever since, playing with it, defying people’s expectations of it, and reveling in the confusion they cause.
 
They went on the list too. Along with a couple of other women I met in the kink community. Adding people I had actually met felt odd but not wrong. I remember being surprised when the list approached double digits though.
 
S was different. They weren't like anyone else on the list. Even now, I find it difficult to make accurate comparisons where they are concerned. There are reasons that I have built two central characters around them - one male, one female.

Eventually, not only did they cement their place on the list, I was able to cross them off of it. And it was only then that the list began to feel irrelevant, outdated, and unnecessary. For if I could cross people off the list, there was no “if” about my sexuality. I'd gotten an inkling of it when I flirted with another woman (a *gasp* lesbian!) at my first dungeon party. But now it was clear. It was real and it was undeniable. I could be attracted to multiple genders.
 
It absolutely took some time for me to process that, come to terms with it, and finally own it. I was doing a lot of that at the time though, so it just seemed like one more thing. Groundbreaking as those changes were for me, I can trace many of them back to a single moment.
 
A single kiss that most people probably didn’t even notice. A single kiss that seemed to be aimed directly at me. 

I love my nerds.

There are few places I feel more at home, more at ease, than when I'm surrounded by cosplayers, gamers, and comic book experts. I am none of these things, but I do have my fandoms and we just seem to get each other. 

One of the reasons for this is that the Venn diagram of nerds and kinky people is practically a circle. I can put my books out at a geeky event and barely anyone bats an eyelash. Equally important is that you can assume a certain level of awkwardness among us nerds. If you measured awkwardness on a scale of 1-10, most of us operate at a 2-3. 

And that's on good days.

The point being that we all understand. When we're together, we're not judged, no one looks at you askance for minor verbal missteps or badly timed silences. It's all good because we're all on the same team(s).

However. There is a very fine line where socially awkward becomes creepy. Unfortunately, it's not always clear where that line is. I've been known to stare off into the distance when I'm writing and realize too late that another vendor or attendee is in my line of vision. When I'm in that zone, I can completely block out the flesh and blood people in front of me in favor of the imaginary people talking to me in my head. When that happens, I apologize and try to get my awkward levels back down to an acceptable place. 

There are perpetually one or two people around who set off my creepy radar though. And it can be difficult to know what, if anything, to do about them. Do I warn others, including organizers, based on a suspicion? What do you do when the line is so blurred you can barely see it?

Here's an example. There's a guy I see maybe once a year. I'll call him P. I've known him since my early kink days because we got together a couple of times. And yes, by got together, I mean he came over and we played with rope and pain. I don't think there was actual sex, but we did a lot. Enough that he was utterly convinced that, because I enjoy being held down and overpowered, I had rape fantasies. 

I assure you, I do not. It's fine if you do, but the fact that I couldn't convince him that I knew myself better than he did was one of the reasons I quit seeing him. He was also unreliable and flaky.

And this was about the time I started to see someone who would become an actual predator in the community. I was a long way from knowing that, but he was. I'll call him J. We would develop an actual relationship and be together about a year. 

Early on when I was with J, I heard from more than one person that P had said he had "let J have me because he decided we were no longer compatible." 

Let's break down how much is wrong with this sentence, shall we?

First of all, I am not an auction item to be bid on. 

Second, P didn't end anything. If anyone did, it was me though we weren't serious enough for there to be anything to actually end. 

Finally, in light of what would eventually come out about J, this is a really bad take in retrospect. Hindsight being what it is, I can't blame P for that one but it does leave a bad taste in one's mouth.

I didn't see P around for probably a couple of years. But when I started vending, I noticed him coming out more regularly. He would come by, try to chat me up about this or that, and I would engage only as much as I had to so he would leave me alone. 

Eventually, he got the hint. Now, he barely acknowledges me and I am good with that as he seems to be blissfully unaware of how much he dances on that line between awkward and creepy. For one thing, his current partner - who he's been with for many years - is significantly younger than him. Like young enough to be his daughter. They've been together long enough that it is less weird than it is used to be, but again...it checks a couple of creepy boxes for me. 

But that's really about it. He's bad about social boundaries and clearly has an age-gap fetish (hey, if he can make assumptions, so can I). That's all I got. It's not enough to tell anyone, "don't let him into your event." 

I can talk to others who know him, talk to my friend who was vending near him, and I can rant here. In the time since I first started thinking about this, some of my fears about him have been assuaged. Doesn't mean I have to like him personally. And it doesn't mean I won't commiserate when others find him creepy too.

Because lots of times? Lots of times those red flags pop up for a reason.