#conflicted

assumptionprime:

putting the “conflict” in conflicted

I made a “Hi, mom!” joke over on twitter in case she reads my comics, but I know for a stone fact she’ll never see it on tumblr dot com, so no need here.

I’ve yet to meet a submissive who wasn’t conflicted. Who didn’t have the twin pull of the attraction of that surrender of control, against the idea that this was somehow wrong, and that they should, for whatever reason, feel guilty for indulging themselves. 

It’s oh so easy to throw an accusing finger at society, to damn it all to hell and sigh, throw treatment of women, treatment of sexual liberalism, and even a spattering of religion in there, and call it done. That it’s just all of these things creating a great big brick wall that’s between you and theoretical liberation, shackles to be cast aside so you can properly enjoy yourself. 

I’m afraid I don’t think it’s that simple. While I won’t argue that society has no role (it’s got a rather large bill to foot), it’s not the be all and end all. The thing is, there is something here that’s not quite right. We’re not meant to enjoy the things we enjoy, on a fundamental level. It’s only down to our neurosis, and the way that we’ve evolved to think and feel, that even make something like this remotely attractive. 

To put it a little more frankly, it’s a freak event, a glitch in the system. If we didn’t have the endorphins that flooded our systems when we received pain, or the partner of that, the rush of power and dominance at inflicting that pain, of knowing that you’re in control, we wouldn’t entertain it for a moment. It’s an unintended consequence, in a history of unintended beneficial consequences that makes up evolution. 

At least, that explains the physical side of D/s. Or goes a way, anyway. The rest is a little more… sticky. 

It’s sticky because it’s not even remotely as clear cut as that. Pain is a negative thing. That’s a pretty well established fact. It’s only through exceptions to that rule that we can feel good about it. Submission, though? That profound expression of love and control? There’s no playbook for that, either way. There’s a few precedents, though, and they’re pretty damning. The 50s housewife, serfs in medieval Europe. All that bullshit. And I say bullshit because to equate those things, even for a second, to what goes on between Dominant and submissive is a rude disservice. 

But that’s what your mind does, and that’s where all that guilt bubbles up from. You don’t want to be put in those boxes, alongside those groups, because you don’t want to experience the negative stigma those groups experienced. That’s a pretty reasonable desire. From my side, I don’t want to feed into those negative connotations just as much as you don’t want to receive them, and there’s just as much guilt flying around on the Dominant side, I assure you. It’s bad being the victim, but if you’ve got a conscience, being the aggressor is far worse. 

I want to state now that these are not concerns that we need to entertain. You’re not a 50s housewife, and I’m not a 50s husband. You are no serf, and I am no feudal lord. Consent flies between us thick and strong, and, more importantly, so does affection, care, and love. It’s about polarising attitudes that already exist between us. Amplifying our very personhood. And it’s those people, and personalities, that we love so much. Amplifying them can only be a good thing, can only increase the things we love about one another. 

So don’t feel bad. Don’t be conflicted. Just toss your neurosis and anxieties out of the window, because we really don’t need them. 

Oh, and you might as well toss your clothes out too. You won’t need them either.