Last night Matt and I cuddled on the couch and watched this excellent video by spanking fetishist Jillian Keenan about “how to find your spanking soulmate.” I sat there sipping a perfect cocktail made for me by my beautiful partner to cap off a night spent at a kink workshop, and knew I had already found my kinky kindred, my perverted paramour, my lascivious love. I do not take for granted how rare that is, how lucky.
Jillian notes in her video that, all things considered, it’s very likely your perfect kink partner lives in a different part of the world than you do. This is the blessing and the curse of the social internet: you can find the exact right person for your mind, body, and relationship style, but you’ll probably need a passport (not to mention an air travel budget) to spend time with them. It’s both wonderful and unfair.
For me, though, this is worth the trade-off. I’d rather be with someone who “gets” me, satisfies me, makes me happy, and who I can genuinely do those things for, too – even if I can’t always physically be with them – than attempt to make conversation with locals who go “Huh?” at my jokes and “Uhhh…” at my kinks. Depth of connection can transcend national borders, but sometimes you can’t even figure out how to connect with someone who’s sitting right across from you. I know which I’d choose every time.
That said, I have thought a lot the past few years about how finding a partner who shares all your kinks is an overrated concept. Sure, it’s nice as hell if it happens, but it absolutely isn’t necessary. Every sexual proclivity is a site of enjoyment and potential connection; every encounter with a perv from a different branch of the pervert tree will widen your horizons and teach you about yourself. “Fun” and “hot” are casual friends, not a married couple; it’s lovely when they hang out, but sometimes they show up to the party at totally different times, or don’t cross paths for months, and that’s fine. You’re still likely to have a good time.