August 1, 2012 Uncategorized  6 comments

I wrote this about a year ago, but I’ve been in a couple of situations lately that reminded me of this, so I’m recycling it.


I’ve been really interested in social networking sites lately. I took a class on it at an event last weekend, I’ve been looking around several of them, with some personal goals in mind.

Because of that, and because I’ve been online for so many years – I got my first real computer back in the early 1980’s, I’ve been on the Internet in some form or another since the early 1990’s, I’ve looked at what seems like a million other sites.

I looked at a couple of new ones today and what I was struck by, as I always am when I venture into the vanilla web, is just how different I am, how different I feel than others apparently must. I went to a site today and filled out one the millionth questionaire, and some of the questions strike me as though they were meant for a Martian moreso than they were meant for me.

They ask so many questions about trust, questions that are clearly based on NOT trusting your significant other. If your partner has to go out of town and spends the night at the house of a friend you know he finds attractive, do you worry? No, because I trust him. If I didn’t, he wouldn’t be my partner.

If you had a fling with someone else, would you lie to your partner or rush home and brag about it? Neither, really. I’d tell him, most likely before the fling began that it was at least an option, but I’d not rush home to gloat about it, either. I don’t think it’s a contest, and I shouldn’t be gloating because I won somehow.

I signed up with Yahoo years ago and now I get regular listings of people who meet my criteria. In Yahoo’s mind, this appears to be based purely on gender. They’re men. Clearly, that’s the only criteria a woman should have, right? That my potential match requires merely the complimentary genital formation to my own is alarming enough, but then, if I’m bored, sometimes I’ll open a few and look and what I find is even more worrisome.

All men on Yahoo, in my experience, are “Good guys looking for good girls.” Honestly, I am not a “good” girl nor do I aspire to be one and I’m not really interested in “good” guys, either.

I want smart and interesting and fun guys, good is damning by faint praise in my book.

They all want to be “friends first.” Doesn’t that go without saying? It makes a great scene in a sit com on TV when the lead characters start out clashing, leading to a shouting match, ending in – come on now, you know the ending – a passionate embrace followed by implied sex.

I don’t know about you, but I never had a shouting match with anyone that ended in sex. Don’t 99% of your relationships start out with some kind of friendship?

I can look at 35 profiles and never find a single profile that even piques my interest, or, maybe more to the point, whose interest I think I would pique. I could send them all notes and half of them, when they found out I was “a dominatrix,” would assure me that they’d love to give it a try, that’s really hot, that’s great, that’s ok.

That’s because they think I’m only going to be that way in bed, up to the point that they like it. I know that when I won’t allow them to watch football or wear that ugly underwear or make them change the message on their voice mail because I find it tiresome, they’re going to find the whole dominatrix thing not really that appealing after all.

I spend so much of my time in the company of people who know about me and share my interests, values and lifestyle that I often forget that I don’t really fit in very well when I venture out.

We went to a family function a while back and my mother-in-law and two sisters-in-law were chatting about what tv shows they watched. Situation comedies, reality shows, shows about straight people – in every sense of the word – who have kids and unspecified jobs in offices with far more lax dress codes for the women than any actual office I ever worked in.f there are gays in the scene, they’re the quirky friend.

They kept naming shows and asking me if I watched them, none of which I did. So they asked me what TV shows I did watch. “Dexter,” I said. “That’s the one about the sociopathic serial killer who’s a blood-spatter expert. We really love that show…” I get the feeling we might not be asked to babysit until that memory fades.

I tell myself that most of the time I like being different, but maybe that’s not true. Maybe the real truth is, I spend so much time with people who are more like me than not that I don’t feel too different most of the time.

There are moments when, sitting in a group like that one, I feel very much like an observer, someone sent down to observe the “normal” folk. Like a clever alien, I learn to either ape their behavior or more often simply keep my mouth shut, laugh when it seems everyone else is laughing, and think about that different drummer, the one I must apparently hear in the distance, the one who sets my feet marching off, restlessly.

6 comments to Different

  • vanillamom  says:

    First, this is a terrific post, Ms. Constance.

    and it leaves me pondering (as all good posts should)…maybe because I came to this way of life so very, very late…I can float pretty easily betwixt these two worlds. I’m adept at acting perfectly vanilla…although if I examine myself closely, I see instances of submission woven throughout my relationship. It just didn’t have a name.

    Life is different for me now; I am fairly split even between the two choices, the two paths. On the one hand, totally submissive to my Master…on the other, the perfect WAS(P) vanilla wife (that’s white, anglo-saxon Pagan!) and mommy. I do live as a lesbian IRL, so maybe that’s put me a bit on the fringe, but not all that much. I can’t recall any overt discrimination from my lifestyle. I can’t imagine that it would be the same, should I ever be called out for my alternative choice as a a masochistic submissive.


    • MsConstanceExplains  says:

      I think I’ve honestly always felt pretty different. My mother was a substitute teacher in a tiny town and we lived across the street from the school. Everyone knew me, knew that my mother was the teacher and my father was dead. There were no other real single parent households in my town then, so I was different.

      We were very very poor, and I didn’t have things most of the other kids did, so I was different.

      I was gay for nearly 20 years, so I was different.

      I am kinky and my priorities and friends and activities and life are not like the average one, so I am different.

      Most of the time, I really do prefer it. It’s pretty clear I really did make a number of choices in my life with a final goal to avoid being average, and I seem to have succeeded.

      I don’t want to BE average, like everyone else.

      But no matter how happy you are to step to the beat of that different drummer, there are times when it’s still a challenge, and when I am still reminded that being different also means, by definition, being alone in many groups. I can live with that, too, but it does make me feel like I’m still that awkward kid who wasn’t like anyone else.

      • vanillamom  says:

        Having met you, sitting next to that bubble of confidence You engender…I am amazed that You too feel that way…..the awkward child (who lives in just about everyone, I think) is not visible. Yet you are brave enough, confident enough, to express that inner child here in open format.

        When I was at the munch last year, I felt pretty out of step…almost like I didn’t deserve to be there. I don’t live my kink 24/7, my Master isn’t one to follow any set of “Preordained D/s bullshit rules” as He calls it….yet YOU made me feel less awkward, more a part of the group. Perhaps we all have those moments of “I don’t belong here”….some are just more adept at hiding it and NEVER letting anyone know it.

        For someone I see as so Domme, so Top, so Secure in herself…to say it? I think that’s pretty neat. Thank you for making me feel less of that awkward child.


  • aisha  says:

    i love this post!

    i can’t decide which part i like the best – it’s a tie between:

    “I know that when I won’t allow them to watch football or wear that ugly underwear or make them change the message on their voice mail because I find it tiresome, they’re going to find the whole dominatrix thing not really that appealing after all.”

    which cracked me up or the last paragraph, with:

    “I feel very much like an observer, someone sent down to observe the “normal” folk…”

    i’ve been fortunate – and have worked hard – to find a number of groups where i can be myself, for the most part, and feel comfortable. It took a long time. In fact, i’m probably a little spoiled, and more likely to expect to be accepted and appreciated, which is not so reasonable either… Hmmmm.

    More food for thought.

    Nice post.


    • MsConstanceExplains  says:

      Isn’t it funny the different experiences we bring to a community that, on many levels, does let us write the rules for how we’ll act and interact?

      I do feel the most at home in the kink community. I did feel at home in the Lesbian community, too, years back, but as has been proven rather emphatically lately, I seem to have lost my keys to that particular executive washroom, as it were.

      I can pass easier in some situations than others.

      I really can’t pass as conservative or Republican, that’s not an option.

  • Blue moon, blue me | Vanillamom's Blog  says:

    […] I read Ms. Constance’s recent post here on being different. I’ve responded to that post, and it engendered a lot of thinking in my […]

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