It’s Hard to Keep Your Kink in a Closet

My choices about pleasure and sex are usually kept private, but sometimes they just show up for anyone who is looking to see.

Can we take just a moment and discuss how many times my kinky life choices show up in unexpected ways?

I am kinky and don’t often consider that to be anything exceptional. People do what they do and as long as everyone involved is consenting, I see no reason for it to be anyone else’s business.

I don’t find the need to talk about the kind of sexual play I enjoy outside of the confines of my relationships. However, there are occasions when my kinky choices have shown up in unplanned ways. It can be funny sometimes, but it is almost always awkward.

These are just a few encounters that have actually happened to me.

Scene: Annual Mammogram Appointment

I had not been paying attention to the calendar for my upcoming appointment when my dearest and I engaged in a particularly rough session of sex. It is always consensual and I love when he leaves me marked and bruised.

As I dressed for my appointment, I noticed the colorful patchwork collection of bruises in various states of healing.

When I was filling out the paperwork for the health care provider, one of the questions was if my breasts had been bruised or injured in the last six months. I always tell my healthcare providers the truth about my life and the choices I make, so I checked the box next to yes.

Sitting to review my form, my provider corrected me.

“Oh, you marked that you had been bruised or had a breast injury in the last six months. Did you have a car accident?”

“No.” Now I am curious about where this is going to go as I watched her change my response on the form.

“You checked the wrong box here.”

I started to explain and she quickly dismissed me as not understanding that the form was asking about bruising on my breast tissue and not elsewhere on my body. She explained how the bruises turn colors when they are deep enough to need to be noted.

Rather than argue, I disrobed for the exam at her request. Her attempts to hide her shock were unsuccessful.

“Oh, I see.”

That was all she said as she moved back to the clipboard that held my paperwork.

I explained that all of the marks happened with my consent and asked if I needed to reschedule. She said it was fine to continue and asked a few questions about my safety in my relationships.

She was not judgmental, but clearly concerned. And because we live in a small town, she had additional concerns — most likely because she is married to my cousin.

Scene: Visit to Urgent Care

My knee occasionally has an opinion. Needing meds to help get things back on track, I went to my local Urgent Care.

“You can take off your sweatpants. Leave on your panties,” the kind nurse instructed.

Great idea, except I wasn’t wearing any. My dearest and I had been playing with some power exchange dynamics and my panties were part of my surrender. Never even crossed my mind as I went to the appointment.

“May I get a gown?”

“Why? You can keep on your panties. No need to undress for the x-ray.”

I just stared at her for a moment. It was long enough for her to understand.

“Let me get you a sheet.”

Scene: Nail Salon

My profession requires that I am well groomed so I typically keep a professional manicure. Without fail, I have to argue with the nail tech about trimming them to a shorter length. I keep them trimmed below the tip. The play my partner and I enjoy is better and safer when my nails are short.

“They are beautiful at this length. No need to cut down,” he proclaims.

“I am a writer and spend a lot of time typing. I don’t like them to click on the keys.” It’s the best truth I have to offer.

“But you do not want them that short. No need to cut down.”

“Yes. Please cut down.”

Because of my travel schedule, I often have to settle for whatever salon I can find on the road. But after the recent set of appointments, I think I will find one technician and stay with him or her.

Scene: Hair Salon

I have a terrific relationship with my stylist. He always makes me feel simply divine by the time he is done with me. He is a former drag queen so we have interesting conversations, but I still kept my kinky secrets buttoned up. He was happy with the secret of my poly relationship in our small town, so there was no reason to go any further.

When we started working together, he was trying to get to know me with the usual chatty questions. I have learned to give vanilla answers the most typical ones like “What’s up for your weekend?” Most people aren’t really interested in knowing about the sex party you and your partner attending or how excited you are to explore that new kinky toy that just arrived in the mail.

My stylist knows I am polyamorous and thinks my dearest is hot. He was joking about my clandestine plans for the upcoming weekend and said, “You know, a flogger would look pretty in your hands with those red nails.”

He thought he had caught me off guard and waited for my retort. Nothing prepared him for my answer.

“Should I use my black leather one or the one that is red and black combined?”

His jaw dropped along with his comb. He had no idea. He thought my polyamory was rebellious enough for our little town.

It was the first time I had any sort of conversation like that outside of my medical providers and inner circle of kinky friends.

Scene: Annual Gynecological Exam

My doctor and I have a great relationship. I am completely open with her and her staff about my polyamorous relationships. She has no problems providing the regular necessary testing to make sure I stay safe and healthy.

She asks direct questions about my sex life so she can provide the best medical advice to me. I appreciate having a provider who is non-judgmental. I have frequently visited her office with bruises and other marks that are visual indicators of my sex life and kinky choices.

During my last exam, however, something caught her eye.

“Your partner has nice straight teeth and clearly knows how to use them.”

It seemed that she had found his mark. Giggles were exchanged, a few questions to check on my safety, and the exam moved on.

As I go in later this week for my annual check-up, there are no marks on my body for the first time in three years. I have no doubt that she will question the absence and check in on my relationships. She will be glad to know that we are fine. We are just over-scheduled right now.

I am not ashamed of my kinky choices, the marks on my body, or how I choose to find pleasure with my partner. However, I am not sure I will ever be prepared for the ways these choices show up in these unexpected places.

Perhaps these little surprise reminders of my kinks are part of the fun of it all.

Read more about Maggie and her journey.

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