Love is my Kink
See, like everyone, I have my kinks, those fun ways to push all my happy buttons. Some of it are pretty obvious - I know my kinks and am very very merry about them and acknowledging them and I‘ve probably touched on them more than a few times here.
But, in addition to the ones I know and love so much, the ultimate, all powerful “push it and I’m ready baby!” kink. And that is love.
Yes love - tender kissing, loving hugs, those little touches and caresses, that longing gaze just flat does it for me.
Awwwwwwww isn’t that sweet?
Enjoy it while you can, the angst is coming now.
See, this is my ultimate kink because for a very very very very long time it was the dream - as in, completely not going to happen. Utterly impossible. Having sex with cthulu (and no, before you ask, that isn’t a kink of mine - but enjoy the mental images) was more likely to happen than having a loving partner.
When I first came to terms with being gay and stopped trying to make it go away, I was under the settled impression that there were maybe 100 gays in the whole of the UK. Yes, I didn’t only think I was the only gay in the village, I was pretty sure I was the only gay in the county (and this is Yorkshire we’re talking about here). I wasn’t going to find love, I’d be lucky if I ever came across another gay man in my entire life.
Later, I slowly dispelled that little idea and realised, yes, there were actually other gay men in the country. But they didn’t live together and love each other. That’s what heterosexuals do. Homosexuals don’t do that. We don’t even want that, right? I was weird for wanting that (well, doubly weird). Homosexuals can’t love, it is known. The best I could hope for was one night stands, nights of cruising in public toilets and “looking for badgers” in midnight parks - because that was what gay men did. We had to hide. We weren’t allowed out where real people could see us. That would be wrong.
And then I found out there were bars and clubs where we were allowed to congregate. Gays could actually exist and be open and it was ok. I fell upon them with glee. Except, of course, I knew they were only about sex and lust. Gays didn’t love. I knew that. I’d been taught that., I grew up believing that - all we felt was lust. All we did was hook up. We didn’t date. We didn’t live together. We didn’t love each other. That was a silly dream,
And then I found out gays could form partnerships and even live together. But it wasn’t about love - it was so you could have someone close to you to have sex. It wasn’t about affection. You didn’t kiss or hold hands or hug or have lovey-dovey make out sessions. You had sex. That was the point. And for a long time I believed that - and if I found myself with any kind of partner I clung to it desperately - even if I didn’t love him. Even if I didn’t even like him very much. Because that didn’t matter - it was the closest thing I’d ever get to the real deal. (My relationship history? Yeah, we won’t go there).
Because I could NEVER HAVE the real deal. Love would NEVER happen for me. It COULD NEVER happen for me. Because gay men do not love. It was known.
And then I met Beloved. He fixed a lot of my broken assumptions. He fixed me in many respects. I was lucky. Very very lucky. And I wonder how many others are not even half so lucky.
My kink is love - the impossible dream that actually happened.