The Most Important Thing I’ve Learned From Dating in the BDSM Scene

Hint: It isn’t how to be a ‘good girl’ or to give a proper spanking

The terms BDSM and kink tend to spark associations to ball gags, blindfolds, and restraints, but there is much more to it than that. And while an image of a person, tied up and unable to see, move, or speak may not immediately allude to trust and open communication, those are the exact ingredients required to create such a scene in the first place.

I often say that I’ve received an honorary Communications Degree from my last few years of dating, predominantly in sex-positive circles. While there’s obviously no such degree, I can confidently say that my verbal communication skills have skyrocketed since I opened that door.

Prior to that, the question, ‘what do you want me to do to you (in bed)’ would put me in a state of panic. I either wasn’t sure, or I was too afraid to say it out loud, worried that it wasn’t exciting enough.

If I dared to say, ‘I want you to go down on me’, I’d turn red in a sudden heat flash and wish I had a hole to sink into. To describe how I wanted them to go down on me would surely have caused me to combust.

I used to be a self-censoring expert

My lack of verbal communication skills around any sensitive topic, and especially sex, wasn’t helped by the fact that I was fresh out of a verbally abusive relationship. I’d spent years honing my self-censoring skills to avoid getting myself into trouble, and I let few words past my tightly knit filter before I’d let them grind through my head until I got it right.

My ex and I hardly spoke about sex, but that wasn’t because it didn’t need speaking about. I had lots I wanted to say, and so much more that I wanted to try and explore. The idea of talking about them mortified me.

There’s no good way to sugar coat ‘dirty talk’

Try grinding any sex-request in your head for too long, and it’s bound to sound awkward. At the beginning of my single-journey, my internal communication sounded a bit like this:

‘I want you to go down on me’. Wait, can I say that?

How about ‘Lick my pussy’? No, too direct. Just ‘lick me!’ Nope, sounds weird.

What do I even call her? Vagina? Vag? Cunt? Poon? Punani? Vajayjay?

Jeeeez, why are there no good names for my lady bits?

‘Put your mouth on my lady bits.’ I imagine that’s what my grandma would say.

Well, at least she’d frikkin say something!

—So, what do you want me to do to you?

—Ehhhhhhhmmmm, just do something, I don’t care…

While there are definitely lazy lovers out there who won’t put in the effort no matter how clearly you speak, there are also the masses who genuinely want to give their partners pleasure—and would be grateful for the feedback.

Such as the guy above, who genuinely asked, just to be inadvertently told ‘I don’t care about my own pleasure, thank you!’.

Then enters my first ‘Dom’. Unlike Christian Grey, he wasn’t an inflated ego wrapped in toxic masculinity, disguising abuse as romanticism. He was a down-to-earth and empathetic listener. Further, he was the first who gave me the courage to speak openly about my sexual wants and wishes.

Before we met in person, he took me through a checklist of every imaginable sexual preference. And while I was surely blushing as I answered his questions, I was far from catching on fire like I normally would have.

Together we drew the first drafts of the map to my own sexuality; by opening up to all the possibilities out there, I identified desires and kinks that I previously lacked vocabulary and reference points to name.

With my map in hand, including a list of limits, I was equipped with the tools to confidently speak about, and pursue, my authentic self—both in and out of the bedroom.

BDSM can’t exist without clear communication

In its essence, BDSM is about pushing boundaries—without breaking limits. Part of the thrill lies in the opportunity to challenge oneself, mentally and physically, within the safe confines of clearly stated rules and limitations.

Playing without prior mapping out of specifics is akin to walking the tightrope without a safety net, or rock climbing without a harness. Anyone with some common sense would refrain from either.

Knowledge of the game-rules not only keeps players safe—they make the game fun and enjoyable. If you’ve tried to play a complex board game without reading the instructions, you’ll know what I mean.

Alternative relationship structures collapse unless they’re built on a foundation of strong communication

Another unfamiliar thing for me when entering the scene was its prevalence of various forms of ethical non-monogamy. While I was open to it, I’d never practiced anything but the norm and I was baffled to see a community where the opposite was the rule rather than the exception. I had many questions:

—Why aren't they jealous? How is it possible for someone to have deep feelings for more than one person? How can two people share the same lover and not hate each other?

While non-monogamy is definitely not everyone’s cup of tea, I believe many reject the idea solely out of fear, either of losing someone, or fear that they’d feel too jealous or uncomfortable.

Jealousy springs from fear, and fear from the unknown

After exploring non-monogamous dating, I realized something important about myself: I’d been scared and sometimes jealous in my last relationship, predominantly because it lacked healthy and open communication, and by default, it was void of trust. On the other hand, when healthy communication is present, and I feel confident about where I stand, my fears and insecurities vanish.

In the end, we never own or control anyone anyway. The risk of loss is always present, regardless of whether the door is open or not.

Open relationships can only work when all parties involved are vocal and honest about their needs. And contrary to skeptic beliefs, being non-monogamous doesn’t by default equate a free pass to that jump on anything that moves.

In the same way, practicing BDSM doesn’t mean that you’re necessarily open to trying every tool in the bag.

Non-monogamous relationships are as unique as the individuals in them, and here too, maps with clear boundaries are needed to navigate successfully.

All this talking is a ton of work

None of this is easy: Being the strong, open, and empathetic communicator needed to make these structures work requires heaps of energy. This is the price to play the game, but for those who do, the alternative isn’t a viable option. With high stakes comes the potential for high rewards, and the profoundness of the intimate relationships made possible within these frameworks, tend to justify the risk. Once you’ve caught a glimpse of what’s possible, it’s hard to go back.

Lack of communication leads to a lack of intimacy

Self-censorship and holding back our words is something most of us do to some degree. While women are more often taught to be nice and not take up too much space, many men find themselves on shaky ground when urged to speak in-depth about sex and intimacy.

We’re all conditioned, in some way or another, by expectations to be appropriate, and we often carry deep layers of fear, guilt, and shame, passed down through generations, for centuries.

Tragically, our communal lack of clear communication around intimacy results in the forfeit of tremendous potential for shared pleasure.

It’s not easy to unlearn habits we’ve been practicing our whole lives. Especially if we’ve been punished for speaking, teaching us that vocalizing is scary and dangerous, it takes numerous validations until we learn to trust that it isn’t.

I’m still learning, again and again, like a puppy receiving a treat upon performing a trick, that there’s a reward, not punishment, awaiting each time I speak my truth — even when the truth is hard to hear.

Less and less do I draw my breath to speak, just to stop myself before I do.

Our voices are our most important tools in the bedroom

So, while my explorations in sex-positive circles have taught me a thing or two about human anatomy, and given me a handful of practical and handy moves, the most significant skill I’ve acquired has nothing to do with technicalities, tools or toys.

What’s brought me to where I am today—and that has not just taught me how to be a better person between the sheets, but in all of my relationships and interactions—is learning how to clearly and confidently speak my mind.

While excessive communication is an absolute necessity in the world of BDSM, I believe that everyone, whether kinky or vanilla, poly or ‘mono’, has something to learn from this community when it comes to vocalizing needs and desires.

Just like how our brains are our most important erogenous zones, there’s really no ‘sex-tool’ more significant than our voices.