The Dynamic Nature of Sexuality
Why being your authentic self sexually and realizing that your sexuality will likely change over time is the best way to ensure a fulfilled erotic life
Recently on my other Substack page I wrote “Our Shifting Sense of Self”. In that post, I reference a Buddhist concept that can lessen our suffering in life by fostering an awareness that our sense of self and the identities we attach to ourselves change throughout our lives.
The Buddhist concept called anātman proposes that we’re not really a self and that we as that self don’t really exist. I know. Sounds wacky. But once explained I think you’ll find it useful.
It’s not that people don’t exist. Of course they do. But the person we point to in the mirror is a snapshot in time who will be different, perhaps moments later, perhaps days later, and surely years later. Our sense of self can only be constructed in the immediate moment as a combination of what we know and how we feel, identify, and describe ourselves to ourselves and therefore to the world in which we navigate.
While writing that post it became immediately obvious that the concept applies directly to our sexualities and relationships.
As a lifelong kinkster and erotic maverick, I have historically been quite attached to a certain sense of self and associated identities. Some of that sense of sense and identity felt baked into my psyche. By that I mean that while perhaps they weren’t immutable, they felt like an inherent part of me. Perhaps some of it’s nature, some of it nurture. I don’t know.
Being gay is one example of something that feels rather consistent throughout my life. I’ve always felt that way. I’m approaching 69 years of age and still feel that way. I’ve dabbled in bisexuality and played across genders and orientations and that’s been fun. But only sexual interactions with men feel like they speak directly to who I am.
From the start, monogamy never had an appeal. While I didn’t have the vernacular to call myself polyamorous during my younger years, or solo poly or a relationship anarchist which is how I’d more accurately describe myself today, monogamy was never on the table from the start of my sexually active life or when I met my first long-term partner at 18 years of age.
So, that sort of stuff feels like it’s ingrained deeply and not likely to change much. That said, who knows how I might feel in a year or ten. But for now, those feel like constants.
However, I know that much of my sexuality has been unintentionally and intentionally constructed over time.
Through the happenstance of coming out in a world-famous gay leather bar in Chicago in the early 70s, I attached myself quickly to the identity of gay leatherman.
Because I had a certain knack for quickly self-learning and applying a variety of kink styles of play with sexual partners, I became known as a proficient dominant top. We didn’t have kink classes, books, or any kind of instructional material back then. Learning was in the trenches, in real time. Robust self-education skills could elevate you to a higher echelon within the leather and kink gay subculture in which I navigated. That had upsides, but it also had downsides.
A downside is that much of that was a trap. A trap in which I was admittedly a willing captive, but a trap nonetheless. What I never had the good sense to do was to self-reflect ongoing throughout those early years, to stare into that proverbial mirror, and ask myself if the sexuality and associated relationships I had adopted were still the ones I wanted. In hindsight that was a mistake. My suggestion to you is to not make the same mistake.
I came out of the starting gate one type of leatherman and write here now as another quite different type of kinkster, with countless permutations and intersections of my erotic self at various times during that period.
We often hear it touted that we human beings should always seek to grow, evolve, and explore. That’s sound advice. Yet, when it comes to our kinky selves, our sexualities, and the relationships in which those sexualities live, that advice is often not heeded or, just as sadly, we feel encumbered in unhealthy ways from pursuing such personal growth.
Over time I have realized how much I held back certain sexual explorations or alternative erotic identities. It honestly wasn’t until my 50s that I began to adopt a “I just don’t care what others think” attitude and do whatever it is I want to do. If someone felt that challenged my kinky credentials, so be it. If someone shunned me because I no longer fit some preconceived notion of who I should be and how I should act, so be it. If my sexuality did an about face and went down an entirely new path, so be it.
That was not easy! Maybe it’s a demonstration of me lacking adequate self-respect. Maybe it’s normal to feel compelled to comply with social cues. Maybe there was nothing wrong with me at all and I was just being human. Regardless, I sure wish I had the wherewithal to have allowed myself to be the entirety of me and not just the compartmentalized and curated version of myself I showed to the world.
For whatever reason, people trust me to hold their confidences. I’ll be at an out-of-town kink conference and total strangers walk up to me and tell me some of the most intimate details about themselves and their sexualities. I’m not known as a gossip. So perhaps if that reputation precedes me these people feel they can readily open up and if so I consider it an honor they feel that way. All those conversations have led to me gaining some insights into people's sexual lives, their erotic identities, and the relationships they form.
And here is something important I have learned during all those conversations. Lots of people have similar experiences to mine. More people than you might imagine are hiding aspects of their sexual and kinky proclivities because of internal or external judgment, and it is stressful for them. People often live in fear that if their authentic natures are exposed, or if it is discovered that they have embarked on a new or modified path, they will be summarily dismissed from the community they have chosen to make home. This is a sad situation, but one I feel is common.
The official name for this phenomenon might be sexual repression. But such repression is often linked with guilt or shame. Too many kinksters fall prey to sexual repression, but perhaps it’s not always guilt or shame but rather simply compliance to get along. Whether that manifests as simply not pursuing a certain kink for fear of judgment or hesitating about a complete reinvention of their sexual identity, compliance is the easier path. People fear being ostracized because of the change they desire or need. That’s not healthy.
Our reluctance to change even when we might know it’s what we truly want isn’t surprising.
But what if tomorrow I experience a lightning bolt of self-knowledge that dramatically changes my sense of self and identity? The world will continue to treat me according to the sense of self I projected yesterday. Even more challenging, since we’re fed from an early age that consistency and steadfastness in all things, including our sense of self and identity, is a virtue, bucking the current perceived view of ourselves can introduce confusion and stress.
We’re programmed early on to pick something and stick with it. If you’re gay, don’t even consider exploring the opposite sex. If you’re heterosexual, your heterosexuality will be challenged if you explore same-sex adventures. If you’re known as a dominant in kink culture, you stay that way because it’s seen among some as a complete negation of your erotic credentials if you don’t. The same can be said for people who travel the submissive path within kink. Even the versatile among us, often called switches, can feel obligated to express steadfast 50/50 interest and skill in everything they do. Reinventing and exploring from the switch mindset can be just as treacherous.
One thing that gives me hope is younger people aren’t as constrained by tradition, convention, or social programming as those of my generation. I witness far more exploration, freedom of identity, and a communal acceptance of a wider range of sexualities among younger people including within kink communities. My hope for them is that they will lead the way to a better era in which we allow everyone to be and do exactly what they want (consensually, of course) and not be judged or boxed in for those choices.
Author Adam Grant once said, “Authenticity means erasing the gap between what you firmly believe inside and what you reveal to the outside world.” Allowing yourself to reinvent and explore is the path to authenticity. Everything else is a construct that might pass just fine for representing your true needs, but nothing replaces being all you want to be.
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