By Sensuous Sadie
SensuousSadie@aol.com 
www.sensuoussadie.com 

Tonight I went on a date with a novice Dominant whom I met online. The tip-off that Adam was a novice was that he asked me if anything 'dangerous' happens at the local munches. I replied that the biggest danger was heartburn from the buffalo wings and occasional boredom from stultifying conversations about pets. But dangerous? Hardly. This would also be a tip off to what would turn out to be a disastrous date.

Adam is a nice enough guy. Mid 30’s, pleasant looking, intelligent. I’m those things too, and so I wore a sporty pink skirt and tank top, hardly D/s fare but then this was Chilis, not the Hellfire club. As we were walking toward the restaurant I could see he was nervous. 'How charming,' I thought, 'a guy who’s actually nervous on a date.' Still, he looked more than just a little nervous, more like he was having a panic attack. So we stopped there, mid parking lot, and I asked him to share what was worrying him.

As I looked at his conflicted face, I wondered if somehow I had failed him by not showing up a la Batgirl in a PVC catsuit with a flogger hanging off my belt. Or maybe my lighthearted attitude toward BDSM hadn’t matched his serious disposition. Or maybe he hated bottled blondes, or who knows what else about me.

After listening to him stutter half-sentences about being not ready and how it just wasn’t right and other things which didn’t make much sense, I figured out that no, it wasn’t me. It wasn’t the restaurant. It was the whole BDSM thing.

I called on my gentle side, the side that was trying to remain calm even as my stomach rumbled and I sensed my dinner receding beyond reach. I reminded him that it was just a bite to eat, that we would talk about our jobs, the weather, and maybe our pets. No kinky sex talk or D/s play in front of the waiter. But it wasn’t enough. Adam couldn’t walk into the restaurant much less jaw about life over a mouthful of greasy appetizers. Adam could barely speak.

Somehow, I got this guy on the day, maybe the moment that he was entering the lifestyle. To him, meeting with me represented something, a commitment that he just plain wasn’t ready for. I wondered what was the thing that was making him so conflicted. Had he had some terrible sexual experience? Had he been abused? Did he think he might end up abusing me? I imagine that he must have been struggling with fears about sexuality, fears about who he is, what he wants. His fears seemed totally out of proportion to this mild summer evening. I think it wasn’t so much about BDSM as it was about him being afraid. Afraid of BDSM, afraid of me, maybe even afraid of life.

With all this, it was hard to imagine Adam as the Dominant that he said he was. Maybe he’s only a Dominant in his own mind, which actually isn’t all that uncommon. Maybe he’s a Pre-Dominant, and won’t be ready for full Domliness until he’s fully marinated. Finally, I drove home, ranted to a friend, and finished the evening with a load of laundry. This was the first date I’d had that self-destructed in the parking lot. They haven’t all been scintillating, but I’d never been cheated entirely. Having things falter this way discombobulated me, although I’m fully aware of how selfish this must sound.

I wonder what he’s feeling. Probably guilt-ridden, confused, and scared. Was I any help at all to this terrified novice? I kind of doubt it. Maybe there was nothing I or anyone could have done. I had never met anyone before who was so not-ready to come out. The people who make it to the munches have pretty much passed this phase and are closing in on the racetrack rabbit.

I’d forgotten just how scary the whole BDSM experience can be to a novice. Not all novices of course. Most of them are hungry for experience, peppering me with questions as if I had all the answers. Helping them grow is definitely a job for the teaching souls, not someone like me who is mildly impatient on the best of days. This particular novice needed more than information on how to tie knots and what to wear to the munch. He needed information on how to come to terms with himself. Maybe he has to find himself somewhere within himself before he can reach out. How can we help people who are in that space? Do we even want to?

I don’t have many fears anymore; the few I nurtured have been lost in the mists of time. These days I chat with BDSM people all day long. Writers and thinkers. Pro Dommes and editors. Group leaders and ordinary folk like my friend Susan down the block. We gossip about our BDSM lifestyle with the same enthusiasm that we chat about the new Thai restaurant. After ten years it’s not hard to talk about my lifestyle, only sometimes hard censoring it when around vanilla people.

The lesson for me is probably that dating novices is a really bad idea. Not having had a date in a month, I had been feeling less discriminating which probably isn’t optimal. I did have to remind myself not to take it personally and resist the urge to slap myself for going out with him despite my better judgment. This flopped dinner date was a good reminder that I need someone who is not only experienced in BDSM, but who knows who they are and what they want. No easy thing.

Still, I’m nothing if not persistent, and so am ready to face down Chili’s with yet another Dominant, even if he does turn out to be a Dominant only in his own mind. Either way, as long as there are buffalo wings on the menu, it can’t be that dangerous.

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Sensuous Sadie is the author of It's Not About the Whip: Love, Sex, and Spirituality in the BDSM Scene (http://www.trafford.com/robots/03-0551.html). She is the founder and leader (1999 - 2001) of Rose & Thorn , Vermont 's first BDSM group. Comments, compliments and complaints, as well as requests for reprinting can be addressed to her at SensuousSadie@aol.com  or visit her website at www.sensuoussadie.com. Sadie believes the universe is abundant, and that sharing information freely is part of this abundance, so she allows reprints of her writing in most venues.

Copyright 2003 Sadie Sez Publications