Tuesday, September 24, 2013

The Deviant Nerd - The Limits of Hard Limits

The Limits of Hard Limits
The Deviant Nerd
Brought to you by Arrested Restraints; with prices that won’t hold you back on the things that hold you down.

Question: Hey Pip!

So I just had a BDSM scene with a new top that went wrong and don’t know what to do about it. Before we began, when we were talking about limits, I told him that I was fine with being spanked, flogged, and beaten, but I didn’t want to break skin. I hate blood—just the sight of it makes me sick—and I’m paranoid about anyone at my job or normal life seeing marks or scars, which is why breaking skin is a hard-no for me. 

But, during the scene, while the top was beating me with a knotted flogger, everything was great until he broke skin. The second I felt blood on my upper shoulder, I told him to stop. He did and apologized, but I was still pissed that he broke skin on my shoulder—a place where I’ll have to wear high-backed shirts to cover it until it heals—after I specifically asked him not to. 

He keeps trying to call me, asking me why I won’t talk to him, which just makes me madder. It’s like the kinky equivalent of a hickey! It’s infuriating that I have to worry about hiding the marks just because he couldn’t be more careful.

I want to call him and yell at him, but I don’t know what to tell him. What should I say?

 – Hard-No Means No


Pip: Hey Hard-No,

Honestly, Hard-No, if I were you, I’d call him back, thank him, and apologize. Here’s why.

First off, massive props and enthusiastic back-pats for you and the top for negotiating limits beforehand. It’s always a good idea to get to know where each other’s limits are before the toy bag is ever brought out. 

Because everyone’s got em. And well they should. Limits are good things to have. As humans, we work well with limits and boundaries.

But, here’s the thing, we all have to choose our limits wisely.

Hard limits are limits that are non-negotiable. These are things that end scenes and relationships. Which means they have to be controllable.

In BDSM, you can have the hard limit of no water sports fairly easily. Don’t piss on me. It’s hard to go through the normal course of a scene and—Opps!—pee on someone. Same thing goes for penetrative sex (Opps! I spanked your ass a little too hard with my cock?). Cutting (Opps! I picked up my knife thinking it was a flogger?). Spanking (Opps! That’s not rope.). Rope and restraints (Opps! That’s not spanking.). Kink is a wide and varied world and you can avoid a lot of things very easily.

Breaking skin on the other hand...

Breaking skin is usually not the goal in kink, but it’s a reasonable risk you run, especially if you’re into heavy sensation play like flogging and beating. And, from your description, it doesn’t sound like there was a lot of damage and he stopped when you asked him to. There’s actually not a whole lot more a top can do than that.

And, I get it, you made a point that to tell him that you didn’t want marks that broke skin but, as the bottom, it was your responsibility—more than anyone’s—to make sure that your limits were respected. It’s an admirable trait and the ultimate goal for a top to be able to read their bottoms perfectly, but that’s something that comes with time, experience, and lots of joint play together as partners. It’s not something that anyone has the right to expect in their first scene together. 

As the bottom, you know the type of play you like, you know what your body can and cannot take, and only you know when something happening in the scene feels good and when it doesn’t, so you have to be the one with your foot on the BDSM break. You have to be your own advocate because it’s a bad idea to expect someone else to be because, even under the best circumstances, no one can read you better than you can.

And, if breaking skin and leaving marks is a hard limit for you, that means you should never have been playing with a knotted flogger or asking to be beaten. A hard limit like that is going to drastically change your style of play. In order, to fully, 100% guarantee that no kind of injury is caused, you have to agree to keeping it really light. Which is doable and common; the likelihood of drawing blood from light BDSM play is really slim. 

But, with light play, chances are good you won’t be playing with toys capable of drawing blood. Chances are also really good that you won’t be engaging in play that involves hitting, striking, whipping, flogging, or anything that has the chance of drawing blood. Your play will look completely different than the kind of play that accepts breaking skin and drawing some amount of blood as an expectable risk. 

Like you, I’m not a fan of blood—I don’t even like to see it in the movies—so, yeah, purposefully intending to draw blood is a hard limit for me. I don’t do blood play. I don’t do knife play. I’m good about gauging exactly where my limits are so, I'll stop or pause scenes if I think skin might have broken. 

But I’ve had skin break. I’ve had blood drawn. It happens. It is a risk that I accept in order to do the intense sensation play that I love. 

To act as if one can enjoy kink without risk is a little ridiculous. Part of what makes kink fun—what makes it kink—is that it carries some amount of risk. That’s part of its charge.  If all risk is erased, if you’ve controlled and sanitized it to the point of complete safety, you’ve taken kink to a place past vanilla. Because if I’m asking to be beaten but I can’t accept even the possibility of blood, one has to wonder, do I know the meaning of the word “beaten?” 

You can’t actually have both. Can’t be beaten—can’t enjoy the experience of it—without also accepting at least the possibility of damage. You can mitigate how much. You can put in place safety nets and fail safes to minimize risk. And everyone really should; it’s why we play by SSC (Safe, Sane, Consensual) and RAC (Risk-Aware, Consensual) rules. But, in order to completely eliminate the possibility of your hard limit about breaking skin, you have to accept that “being beaten” has become a default hard limit.

And to set such a limit but still engage consensually in play that involves that risk and then blame the other person involved when that risk is realized, that’s irresponsible, illogical, and mean. You consented. You accepted your hard limit as an acceptable risk by consenting. When an expectable risk happens, you are now partially to blame. You actually hold most of the blame. Because it was your limit, it was your risk, and you still—with full-knowledge and fully informed-consent—went through with it. 

How is this all someone else’s fault?

Let’s take my favorite example. A week before my friend’s wedding, I went to Donovan’s “Flights of Fancy” play party. I hadn’t intended to play much that night. I was mostly there for atmosphere and social time. But there was a hot, completely drool-worthy Dom there who liked to play rough. So I played. I’d told him that I didn’t want marks because I was about to go to wedding in a strapless dress (hard limit established). But, as we played, we both got really into it and lost our heads (mitigating event). So the play got rougher and rougher and in places where marks would be seen (hard limit broken). And at no time did I stop him (missed window). In fact, I encouraged it (my fault). Which meant I ended up with bruises and marks all over my body (screwed). I remember him apologizing to me afterward, saying that he got caught up in the moment (takes on blame) and I told him I got caught up too (also takes blame) and that it was fine, that I’d figure out some way to work it out. So bought a new dress, made plans to play with the hot Dom again sometime when I didn’t have a wedding to go to a week later, and thought the whole experience well worth the additional cost.

 – Pip, Your Resident Deviant Nerd

* If you have a sex, kink, love, or life question for The Deviant Nerd, email Pip at PipJones.DeviantNerd@gmail.com
And read more about Pips story in Brought to You By.

Monday, September 16, 2013

The Deviant Nerd - The Mating Habits of the Modern Geek

The Mating Habits of the Modern Geek
The Deviant Nerd
Brought to you by The Taming School, for when you want curling up with a good book to feel like a good post-coital cuddle.

Question: Hey Pip,

Any tips for how geeky guys talk to girls?

Do Nerdy Guys Finish Last?


Pip: Hey Nerdy Guy,

So, like most kinky girls, I have a soft spot for nerdy guys. Probably because I, like most kinky girls, am a big ole nerd myself. There is something about the passions of the nerds and geeks and dorks of the world that is incredibly appealing.

And tends to apply to other aspects of life too; there is a reason why kinksters are more often than not geeks. Think about it. What is kink if not geeking the fuck out of sex? Role play and code names. Elaborate, often homemade or hard-to-acquire toys that require skill and practice to wield. An entire lexicon of terms and library of books created to encapsulate the minute nuances of what a person is into. It’s taking the very simple, very basic act of sex and finding ever newer ways to make it as complicated and complex as we can; what is more nerdy than that?

So, yes, my heart goes out to the nerdy guys, kinky and vanilla alike. It’s often so much harder for them than it is for the norms or even for nerdy girls. Because no one ever teaches you how to go for what you want and so often the social game of dating is playing by rules and conventions that just weren’t made for you. That are, in fact, often setting you up for failure.

Take for example, the classic art of the pick-up line. From what I’ve seen, there are so few men in the world who can actually pull these off. It takes a suaveness, a charisma, and—yes—a level of attractiveness that the vast majority of men—geek or not—just do not have. I’m not even sure if many movie stars can pull this off; after all, don’t we all kinda roll our eyes when it happens—and, worse, works—in films?

And, yet, the practice persists. And I don’t know why.

For instance, I saw a geeky guy at the bank a couple of days ago in a Jayne hat—and, if you don’t get the Firefly reference, we may not be nerd-compatible enough to be friends. Anyway, I was waiting for him to finish his transaction so I could compliment him on it. 

When he breezed right by me to hit on a Jimmy Johns girl, saying very intensely, like, two inches from her face:

“So there’s a spaceship traveling at the speed of light, can you guys still get there?”


1.) Aw, man, learn to scent your own. I was right there. And, while it may not have ended in a date—I mean, even to a geeky chick, this isn’t the most stellar of first impressions—I would have at least been able to come up with an answer to your question beyond “Uhhhh...” and a look that clearly says she thinks you’re nuts.

Most nerds—gotta love ’em—wear their nerdom on their sleeves. Literally. With T-shirts and shoulder bags. With keychains dangling off back packs and patches like bumper stickers on laptop cases. We, so often, fly that geek flag proudly. 

So, if you’re a nerdy guy looking for that perfect nerdy girl, look for the signs. At the very least, look for the girl who scents you. If her head pops up or her eyes go big or she makes the high-pitched squeal of the overjoyed fangirl when she sees your shirt or hat or wallet or whatever, you know like has found like.

2.) If you’re going to hit on girls out of the geek group, you have to come up with better pick-up lines than this. Or better delivery or something. Because you’re already at a disadvantage with these women. They won’t get most of your references. They’ll likely have very different interests than you. And they’re used to a different social pattern and rhythm than you. Finding common ground will not be easy. If you’re going to chat up girls outside the nerdy social circle, you’re going to need a new, non-nerdy approach.

’Cause that Jimmy Johns Girl, who was so very plainly and very painfully not-nerdy, freaky-fast-ed her way out of there. She had no idea what to do with her Jayne-hatted hopeful. Which was fair, since he didn’t really know to do with her either.

3.) Even if you are hitting on geeky girls in-group, you have to come up with better pick-up lines. Geeky chicks are, by and large, smart. We’re funny and fun-loving. If you want to get our attention, just talk to us. Relax and just have a conversation.

Talk to that geeky girl about whatever it is you find interesting about her. Chances are something about her—her hair color, her eyes, her smile, her tattoo, the book she’s reading, or the clothes she’s wearing, whatever—caught your attention and made you stop and notice her.

Go up to her and tell her. Tell her what you like about it. Ask her questions about it. “Nice Star Trek tattoo; that’s in Klingon, right? What’s it say? What did you think about the last movie?” Endeavor to be as interesting to her as she is to you.

Sincere compliments are great conversation starters and—especially if the comment is about something non-superficial or look-based—will tell as much about you for noticing it as it does about her.

Also, realize that there’s no guaranteed topic or line for success and not every brush-off is necessarily about you. There have been many times where I’ve met nice guys but been too busy or preoccupied to suitably respond. Timing—which is so very often completely out of your hands, and hers for that matter—is a very key element to a proper pick-up.

Pip, Your Resident Deviant Nerd

* If you have a sex, kink, love, or life question for The Deviant Nerd, email Pip at PipJones.DeviantNerd@gmail.com

And read more about Pips story in Brought to You By.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

How Catcalls Make Compliments Complicated

You know what? I’m feeling a little conflicted today. About the guys who send me messages through my author's page whom I know have never read my stuff.  Many of whom have no intention of reading what I post.

Know how I know? 

Because they'll do stuff like call me “my baby girl” or “my little slut” or "my Queen" or "my Mistress" when, if they'd read my stuff, they'd know – please don't do that. It's presumptuous—as, by nature, I’m not actually any of those things to anyone—and it’s just bad etiquette. I don't know you, you don't know me; so, trust me when I tell you, I'm not your anything.

To quote myself:

“Never call anyone by a title automatically;” Pip had said with a tsk, “there are few things more awkward than someone acting as if they’re in-scene before anyone has agreed to anything. I’m not anyone’s Mistress and I’m sure as hell not anyone’s slave, assuming that I am on first meeting…well, it’s making an ass out of someone and it sure isn’t me.” 

Now, please understand, I’m not saying this to insult or rag on or attack these guys—I do appreciate that everyone is at different places on this crazy sexual journey and, more times out of none, it’s about just not knowing when and where and how to approach people about what you want and what you like. We’ve all got to start somewhere and, in the great and grand scheme of things, messages like these aren’t the worst place to start. I mean, like most women—like most people—I love when people give me the simple yet profound gift of a well-worded, kind phrase. And, for the most part, these messages are usually sweetly written and sincerely meant. And, yes, a part of me is blown-away flattered by them. 

They’re also really not helping these guys any.

And here’s why:

No matter how sweetly written or sincerely meant you do this, there has been a legion of men before you who’ve ruined this approach for you. 

And not just with me. 

But with 





Every woman you’ll ever meet. 

Every woman everywhere.

Because, even though I know you mean it as a compliment, it comes off as a catcall. And, guys, I promise you, you will never get a positive response from a catcall.

And most men know that. Northeastern University associate professor of sociology Kathrin Zippel figured out that "Often times it's not really about the women, it's just about the men performing masculine acts for each other and establishing a pecking order amongst themselves. What is really going on is the dynamic among men". A lot of these catcallers—as opposed to the honest complimenters—aren’t doing this to flatter us; they’re doing it to flatter themselves.

A catcaller doesn’t know me. He has no idea who I am. I could be busy and not have time for them. I could be dating someone. I could be married. I could be gay. Or asexual. I could be a violent-assault survivor who’s now flashing back to a traumatic event because of him. But he isn’t thinking about that in this moment. 

That catcaller doesn’t know me. And, moreover, he doesn’t want to know me. 

At that moment, all I am to him is a list of fetishes or an array of body parts appealingly arranged. I’m not a person to him in this moment; I’m window dressing.

You want proof? Look at how these guys go about it. An occurrence common enough that 95% of respondents report having similar experiences.

These are the catcallers who literally stalk you down the street, propositioning you like you’re a prostitute. They’re the catcallers who yell at you in aggressive tones as you pass by, turning a form of flattery into a fight of words. These are the catcallers who sidle too close to you, boxing you in on a bus seat or corralling you on a street corner. These are the catcallers who cross social boundaries, touching you with words whispered on the back of your neck, with faces pressed too close to yours, with looks that are meant to be felt, with words and acts meant to push, to make you react. These are the catcallers who make you feel trapped.

These are the catcallers who make women feel unsafe and who turn innocent complimenters into threats.

And these catcallers are ruining it for everyone else. Because, after years of dealing with these guys, it gets harder and harder to keep the distinction between what they do and what normal, decent men do. It gets hard to not raise your defenses against everything, because you can’t tell if a trap is coming and, some days, over-preparedness sure beats the hell out of surprise attacks. 

And, as women, part of that is on us. We should be making that distinction. It’s extra work and isn’t fail safe. But part of living in a world where you don’t have to be afraid all the time is learning to not be so afraid of the world you live in right now. 

It’s hard and I know that. But, like I said, I don’t want to put all men on the defensive any more than I want to feel like I have to be on the defense all the time. I don’t want men, as a whole, to feel judged by what a few creepy catcallers do. And I want to be able to enjoy the compliments I get from all people—men included. 

So, please, by all means, I encourage compliments. Tell me that you think I’m beautiful. Tell me when you like what I do. Please, let me know when what I write speaks to you. Let me know when the random thoughts and images and moments I put out there into the wide, wide world make an impact. Even if that impact is a simple yet profound as a smile. 

I love compliments. They make this whole process—more than sales or stats—worthwhile.

And, really, that is the biggest difference between a catcall and a compliment, isn’t it? 

A compliment is always more about the receiver than it is about the giver. A compliment sees and acknowledges me—as a person, whole and with a history that extends beyond the speaker or their words. It’s something said to make another person feel good. Feel better than they did before it was said. It’s a gift sincerely given. On a really bad day, a compliment can feel like a small miracle and a reason for being. There’s an honest kind of magic in the act that makes me wish it didn’t feel so rare and that should be celebrated, embraced, and encouraged. Always.

On the other hand, a catcall dissects me into parts that, yes, elevates the parts the catcaller wants to acknowledge, while casually dismissing everything else. I could be anyone to him. Any pair of thighs or piece of ass. It’s not even about the thighs or ass that I actually have; it’s about what he would do to those parts, if he could. Any faceless fantasy of a Domme or sub or rope top or bottom he’s ever had. Again, it’s not about the fantasies or wants or inclinations I have, but about the roles the catcaller wants acted out for him. A catcall subtracts me—furiously cuts mefrom the equation as much as possible in order to add to the catcaller’s enjoyment.

And, if someone really needs to ego-stroke himself that much, please stop using other people to do it.

* Yes, I do know that this post is highly gendered. There are women who catcall and certainly most men do not catcall. But, by and large, of the population who practice this false flattery, can we all admit that it’s statistically men who catcall women? And that, of the vast and varied population, it’s the women, who are catcalled by these statistically few but still very numerically prevalent men, who are made to feel unsafe and harangued by the practice? And, most importantly, can we all admit that there’s something we all can do—myself very much included—to make it so we can all stop having this conversation, which will never be accomplished by not having this conversation?
Follow the links for more information about this:
Article on Why Men Catcall 
Podcast on the topic
A Beautiful Analogy - Read the first two comments
A Very Interesting View on the Difference Between Being Objectified and Being Admired (From the Male Perspective)

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

The Deviant Nerd - How We Suffer For Our Kinks

How We Suffer For Our Kinks
The Deviant Nerd
Brought to you by Bits ‘n’ Pieces, where lingerie is more than a luxury, it’s a way of life.

Question: Hey Pip,

My boyfriend has a stocking fetish. And I want to indulge him, but I can only last about ten minutes in thigh-high stockings because they dig into the top of my legs rather painfully and that’s about as long as I can stand having them on. What do I do?

 – Thick Chick


Pip: Hey Thick Chick,

So, first off, you are an awesome girlfriend for indulging your boyfriend’s fetish; I’m giving you the girlfriend of the week award! I hope he knows how lucky he is and I hope he’s indulging in a few of your fetishes too.

Unfortunately, I’m a beanpole—my problem is getting my thigh-highs past my knees—so I’m probably the worst person to answer your question. But I called up my beautifully buxom friend Hallie Hannings, owner of Bits ‘n’ Pieces lingerie boutique, and here’s what she told me:

“Hey there, Thick Chick, here’s my thick-thighed girl tip: Stretch them for about an hour before you wear them. Take a small pillow or—even better, a large, roundish stuffed animal—that’s a bit bigger than your thigh and put the stoking on it, with the band around the largest part of the thing. Leave it for at least an hour before you wear them (I usually do it overnight the night before). It should be easier to wear them for longer. Hope that helps!”

Best of luck!

 – Pip, Your Resident Deviant Nerd

* If you have a sex, kink, love, or life question for The Deviant Nerd, email Pip at PipJones.DeviantNerd@gmail.com

And read more about Pips story in Brought to You By.

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

The Deviant Nerd - Slippery Roles

Slippery Roles
The Deviant Nerd
Brought to you by SyncKink.com, a free, BDSM-friendly, digital safe space for fetishists.

Question: Hey Pip,

When I was in college, I dated an older, submissive guy who introduced me to the scene. I wasn’t really into the whole Domme/sub thing, but he really was and I wanted to make him happy, so I did it for him. And, while I never got all that into the kink side of things, I really liked the people I met in the community and made some really good friends. 

But, shortly after I graduated, the older guy and I broke up. Then I started to date another submissive guy I’d met in the kink scene. And then another guy. And another guy. 

Now it seems like, even when I try to not date kinky guys—like the guys I meet online or through non-kinky friends—I keep ending up with submissive guys looking for a Dominant woman. 

Which is fine, I guess. I mean, I always like the guys as people. We get along and have tons in common. And a part of me really likes the fact that these guys are not only not put off by how pushy and demanding I can be but really like it, which is something that I know can get on some people’s nerves.

It’s just that they keep asking me to do all these things—BDSM, foot fetish stuff, role play, whatever—and, because I like them and want them to like me, I do it. Even though…I don’t get anything out of it.

And, lately, it just feels weird and annoying and even resentful. Like putting on a mask or a costume that doesn’t really fit right. Like I have to step out of myself in order to be the person I know they want me to be.

Like I said, I like the guys I see—they’ve all been really great otherwise—but sometimes it seems like I’m not the one they really want. They want the Domme in the mask. Which is fine, I guess; I can be that girl. It’s just…is it really so much to ask to be wanted for the girl beneath the mask? Can’t I just be enough?

 – Could Be Kinky


Pip: Hey Could Be,

I’m going to be honest with you. I think you could be a kinky Dominatrix—you’ve proven that you have the ability to do it and, considering the men you attract, I’d be willing to guess that you have a pretty dominant personality—but I don’t think that you are. Not really.

You see, there is a world of difference between a dominant personality and a Domme, just as there’s a difference between a passive person and a sub. Your boss may have risen to his/her ranks by being assertive, aggressive, and go-getting. They’re a dominant personality. However, if your boss wielded a flogger or ordered your coworkers to shine his/her boots or bow at his/her feet...I'm thinking Human Resources would need to have a long talk with them about the long list of worker complaints. A passive friend may let you decide what restaurant you’re both going to eat at or say nothing when someone calls them a name, but I’m doubting that they’ll enjoy letting you spank them until your hand’s red or tie them up in a frog tie or pierce them with needles.

There are certainly aspects of BDSM that exist or crossover into real life—power play, humiliation, restraint, pain—but they look different, sound different, mean something different when you apply them to BDSM.

You say you’re bossy, demanding, and dominant and that’s great, but that doesn’t actually make you a Domme. It doesn’t even sound like you really want to be one. You talk about being a Domme as if it’s something you’re obligated to do, like it’s your job, not a part of who you are. For you, it’s a mask you pull on and off, according to the desires of the guys you’re with. 

Which really isn’t a good reason to do it. 

If you’re doing kink for any other reason than that you want and need to do it to feel fulfilled, you shouldn’t be doing it. It’s unhealthy to do so, for everyone involved.

Often, we talk about the roles in BDSM being something that we can put on and take off. That we can step into and step out of. And that is true. In a practical sense. BDSM is highly stylized, highly dramatized, highly intensified play. You can’t do it 24/7. It would tire you and stress you out past the breaking point fast. Because the world isn’t built to sustain a 24/7 BDSM role. No one can be Dominant all the time, in complete control, without doubt; the first, last, and only word on everything. Just as no one can be submissive all the time; you have to think on your own and put yourself first sometimes. 

A kinky person wants a partner who can slip into that headspace as well as slip out of it when appropriate. Who can be a fully functional person in the real world as well as a freaking awesome partner in the crazy, sexy times. But, even though the roles come off and on at will, the inherent kinkiness—the ability to slip in and out—is permanent.  

As—if not a Domme—a kinkster, I can’t imagine not being so. It’s not something that’s always at the forefront of my personality or life, anymore than being black or female or middle-class or a podcaster or a college grad is. But all those things, even if they aren’t the dominant force of me at the time, if they’re not the thing I’m thinking about or acting upon at that specific moment, all make up who I am. I can’t not be those things. They touch everything that I am and everything that I do.

To pretend to be otherwise would be damaging. I could, like a gay person acting straight, live a completely vanilla life. I could even be happy doing so, find some kind of contentment in it. But I wouldn’t be fulfilled. There would be a missing part of me. A part that would long for it. That would lament its lack. There would always be moments and parts of my life where I would be faking it. Faking happiness. Faking contentment. Faking that that was enough for me.

The reverse is true too. A vanilla person faking kink... People do it. They quite admirably do it for their kinky partners because faking interest in this is worth doing—is a gift worth giving—to make the people they love happy. People even fake it until they make it, waking up one day and finding that, through the faking, somehow they’ve become kinky. 

But you’ve been doing this for what sounds like a long time and you’ve never found it satisfying. You want a relationship where the roles don’t exist, where you don’t have to wear that mask. 

And you can and should have that. 

There is an inconceivably larger amount of non-kinky men out there than there are kinky men. If you want a vanilla man to be vanilla with, you can have that. They’re everywhere. 

Except for where you’re looking. 

You said you found several guys through the community. You say you’ve tried to date online and through vanilla friends; were you doing so as a woman who has historically dated kinky men? 

If so, stop. 

You shouldn’t be advertising as kinky to snare a vanilla guy and you really shouldn’t be looking in the kink community for a vanilla partner. It would be like leaving the US to go to China to search for the perfect white, American man. There are easier ways to do this. Go on vanilla sites, write up a vanilla profile, and look for vanilla guys. 

Because, while you can be kinky and have been in the past, Could Be, you don’t have to be, if it’s not what you want. There are men who will want you for who you are without the masks and costumes, but only if you stop slipping on roles you already know don’t fit.

Pip, Your Resident Deviant Nerd

* If you have a sex, kink, love, or life question for The Deviant Nerd, email Pip at PipJones.DeviantNerd@gmail.com

And read more about Pips story in Brought to You By.