I want to talk about fucking up. Because I have, and I think it’s not talked about enough. We speak to each other about the things we’ve done, what we’ve learned, how we’ve succeeded, but it’s hard to talk about the times we’ve failed. So I’m starting a series. That’s right. I’m going to tell you about every single time I’ve fucked up a scene. Because in the end, I learn from my mistakes, and that almost – almost – makes the mistakes worth making.
I fucked up my very first scene.
We played without communication, and that was the problem. I didn’t really know what I was doing. I knew if I ran my nails down his back just so, over and over, he sighed and hiccoughed and moaned in a way that made my stomach knot and my labia quiver. So I made him moan, and then I made him moan again, again, again, until he dropped to the floor and said “Please, please stop.” And I did stop, but I admit, not right away. He had no safeword and was too submissive (and too in love) to stop me. I look back now and wince at how stupid we were.
Afterward he pulled a shirt gingerly over his shoulders and we went downstairs and sat on a picnic table. He smoked a pipe and told me, slowly, how scared he was of me. That he wasn’t sure if he could ever trust me again. I’m not sure he ever did trust me again, not totally, not the way he wanted to. All through the thread of our relationship, for the next entire year, this was one of our defining questions: Do you trust me?
I cried at the time, and I learned fast and hard. I became a rabid communicator. I learned everything I could about power dynamics and safewords. I apologized to him. We laughed together and talked about how hot that scene was, once we’d both come down from the peak. And I was horribly, scarringly guilty. I still am. I keep that scene on the rotation, and there’s a part of me that knows I shouldn’t, that finds such conflicts wrong.
And he forgave me. I wonder, sometimes when I’m a titch on the tipsy side (like now), what would I be like if he hadn’t?
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I think sharing this sort of stuff is a great idea – we always talk about the awesome times, the great scenes, etc, but sometimes, we fuck up. And we learn from those fuck ups.
My first big fuck up was in the middle of very intense anal play. My partner *really* liked verbal humiliation. I was getting the hang of it, but I totally said the completely wrong, out of place, not very nice thing, which pushed a button in him the total wrong way, and brought the scene to a screeching halt. It killed the whole scene, and we didn’t see each other for about 2 months. While he and I had very sexy times, we were never good at communicating with each other, and I think that night was part of what fucked up our dynamic for the rest of the time we saw each other.
I really like this post. But when I tried to write something along similar lines, I found myself having trouble.
I find myself scared that I will misrepresent my partner and people will think he failed me.
Worse, I find myself scared that I will misrepresent BDSM by portraying a fuckup. That any mistakes I admit to could be used against me by people who think I’m a twisted hurt deviant.
Maybe that’s why you see so few public posts along these lines. We get smacked down enough by the outside world, we don’t want to participate in our own defamation. The quandary reminds me of a documentary I heard of recently, which I am hoping very much to screen in a film series I’m about to run: [ http://www.frameline.org/festival/film/detail.aspx?id=1432&fid=42 ]
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