A post in which I talk about being "nice."

This was originally a comment on Unspeakable Axe's post about the disparity between the number of books and other resources aimed at introducing female to topping, versus introduction males to bottoming.

My comment turned into an essay against the concept of "nice." So for posarity, and on the off change I have any readers left after the long summer hiatus I'm reposting it here.

I’m going to try and explain all the thoughts that are fluttering around in my head on this issue, but since I’m on day #3 of a horrible headache, it may not go so well.

I could really get to hate “nice.” I, like most females I know, was raised to be a “nice” person. The definition of “nice” shifts from person to person, but a few things seem to be constant: “nice” girls don’t hurt people , and “nice” girls don’t like sex. Needless to say, getting hot and bothered from hurting people while having kinky sex is right out.

Sadism is the refined art of being not nice. Exceedingly not nice. (And yes, not all tops are sadists. But let me get to that.) So is it any wonder that there are fewer female sadists around?

Now, as I said earlier, not all tops are sadists. But tops do take control of the power dynamic, sort of by definition. And that’s not “nice” either. Telling someone what they are going to do, to you, or for you, or in general is not “nice.”

“Nice” is putting up and shutting up, and doing what needs to be done, and not enjoying one damn bit of it. Or, at least, this is my understanding of the phenomenon.

To enjoy sex at all is breaking the “nice” paradigm. To enjoy kinky sex, more so. To admit to oneself that one enjoys things that hurt (oh so good!) is to warp “nice” all out of perspective.

But let’s be clear here. The glass (a little more honest) MY glass is only half full. Because for all that I like to think of myself as having broken the “nice” paradigm it lingers.

I’ve been reading Ellie Lumpesse’s (http://www.lumpesse.com/) masculinity interviews with great interest. In several of them, the men talk about the need to make peace with topping. This consensual power play we do SEEMS to go against the egalitarian feminist sensibility that most of us (I do hope!) hold. It doesn’t, I think we can agree. We do it from a place of informed consent, often warping the cultural perceptions around gender, power and sex, and it is a fulfilling part of many of our lives.

Take the feminist angle, and a dose of “nice” and no wonder there are not female tops coming out of the woodwork. Admitting that one likes to hit people and listen to them gasp on that edge of pain/pleasure: that is scary stuff. Even if the people you are hitting want it as much as you do, consented to be there, and are enjoying the heck out of it.

Getting out of “nice” is work. Work: reading, and thinking, and reading some. Finding a voice to say what one wants. Finding other voices who think like you.

And even then, even if you get that far, you find yourself back at “nice” sometimes, wondering if it will ever feel like it’s alright to want to what you do.

I could get to hate “nice”.

Masochism and Sunburns

After a few lovely hours at the beach with visiting family, I discovered that I had acquired an epic sunburn, despite my 60 SPF attempts to avoid such.

This has, shall we say, not been pleasant.

Mazzikin and I were chatting, and I would, from time to time, flinch as the shirt that I was wearing rubbed over my burn. This inspired some interesting thoughts, apparently, involving things like Wartenburg wheels and sunburns, in combination.

I winced.

Mazzikin stated that he had rarely met pain that he could not somehow eroticize. How odd, I thought. This idea had never occurred to me, despite my love of sensation play. I pointed out that the erotization of pain is, for me, a mater of context. But it got me thinking.

As an avowed masochist, (sometimes in jest, and often in seriousness), why was this pain any different than pain which had, in the past, been eroticized? And why did my sunburn bother me less after Mazzikin advanced the idea of eroticizing it?

Well, if the context of pain is what makes the shift from discomfort to erotic possible, then one could shift the context of the pain, and thus change the mind's perception of the feeling.

But the limit to this, at least for me, is the inability to stop the pain. If, in a scene, a sensation starts to push the limits of my ability to process it, I have the option of making it stop. With this sunburn, on the other hand, I cannot stop the pain. Eventually, I hit a wall in my ability to eroticize it, and it just plain hurts.

However! Somewhere, a more masochistic person than I may get something out of the experience I had today. To recreate, follow the steps listed below:

Step One: acquire a nicely painful sunburn, primarily on one's shoulders and back.
Step Two: have a job, or other obligation, which requires one to wear a specific uniform. This uniform should include a bra, blouse, and jacket.
Step Three: Enjoy!