Posts Tagged ‘BedPost Confessions’
I remember towards the end of 2010 feeling like I just wanted it to be over already. I even posted a pic of me with a remote control, a representation of what felt like a desperate need to fast forward and get the hell on with it. 2011 promised to be a great year for me. BedPost Confessions was underway and beginning to pick up local steam, the book I had been writing for four years was close to being finished, and my marriage had made it successfully through some extremely prickly patches.
I was gonna rock the fuck outta 2011.
And I guess in many ways I did. There have been many wonderful happenings in my life this year, and while the separation from my husband was extraordinarily painful for a while (probably more hurtful and difficult than anything I’ve experienced before) I am learning that there is, too, wonderment in the process of un-linking myself from someone – in breaking the chain that tied me to the experiences and choices and processes of someone else. Someone whose path wasn’t the same as mine any longer.
I realized this after I got back from Burning Man in early September, where I’d escaped to, open-hearted and venturesome, and had vowed privately to have my very own experiences, ones of my choosing, independent of (if together with) others. For instance, one day I went for a bike ride outing with a group of my fellow (awesomely awesome) camp mates. We had difficulty getting everyone corralled just to leave the camp (as is often the case with large groups of people) but we eventually did, and so we all struck out for a sunset ride. We didn’t get too far before we realized we’d lost track of a few, so we stopped and waited for them to catch up. Once they did we moved onward along the dusty terrain spiked with majestic, artistic offerings, and towards a theme camp someone in the group had decided would be fun to peruse. It was when we arrived at our destination – the one I had made a decision to blithely follow along to – that I realized that I wasn’t having my own experience. I had tied myself to the helm of our group’s proverbial boat and allowed them to lead me to their destination, not my own. Not the one of my choosing. That’s not to say that I couldn’t have had a total blast just tagging along. I could have, I am certain of it. They are fun people and I had been having fun with them for days. There was just something nudging me in another direction.
And so I left. Struck out on my own, Sadie Solo Style, to have my very own experience on my very own terms. And in fact, in my adventure that evening I met someone with whom I spent the entire rest of the night. So it was a very good choice if I do say so myself.
Of course, we can’t always do this. We can’t always unattach ourselves from others just so that we can be the ones in control. We won’t always be the administrators of our experiences, the decision-makers of the process. But sometimes we can, and sometimes we have to. I had to that evening on the playa. I just had to, I don’t know why. And like I needed to break away from that group, I had to, upon returning from the Black Rock Desert, break away from my partner of many, many years. I didn’t know exactly why I had to then (although I had some ideas) and I am still not completely certain why I have to even now… I just know I have to.
So, in a sense, I guess did rock the fuck outta 2011, just not in the traditional model of success – I didn’t get married, I got separated and will be getting divorced this year. This, I think I am learning, can actually be counted as a success. For me anyway. And for now anyway.
Honestly, I felt like fast forwarding a few times this year, too. But then I remembered that it will all come to me no matter what, but in its own time. And then tonight I sat down with the ladies of BedPost Confessions, my fellow producers and curators and feminists, all of whom I love so dearly it almost hurts. As I peered at them across the table in my dining room I understood how much I care about them and what we do together. And then I considered the other beautiful people in my life that I love dearly … and I understood that this is what really matters.
People. Connections. Love. Friendship. Doing what we love. Together. This is what matters.
And then? Together the four of us looked at the calendar and realized that we’ve got shows – lots and lots of fantastic, funtastic, sexy, sexy shows – coming up in other cities. And just one of the cool things about that (for me) is that this is going to allow me to fulfill the number one position on my New Year’s resolution list – Gettin’ The Hell Outta Dodge Whenever Possible (aka TRAVEL). And with shows coming up in Baltimore, New Orleans, Boston, Athens and Washington DC all being scheduled before June, we are gonna rock the hell out of this year indeed. And I’m gonna get to see some other places as we do it.
I’d call that a success already and the year’s just started.
Yep, this year it seems that, like my mission had been on the playa, I will have more say in how my life goes than in any other year previous.
And that? Well, that is something to look forward to.
I don’t have anything to confess!
I hear this sentiment regularly -often delivered with a whimper, a shrug or a shy smile- on the nights I ask people to share their anonymous secrets at the show I co-produce, BedPost Confessions, where we read the audience confessions onstage. I always reply, Oh, I bet you do! We all have something to confess, even if we think we don’t.
It is a hard thing to ask people to do, confess. And I imagine it’s even more difficult for people who are generally private folks to agree to doing so. But we ask regardless because it spurs people to consider their past experiences and ultimately allows them a space to let their secrets go, gives them a momentary release of memory, after we’ve brought it alive once again in front of an audience and the confessor himself. The confessions we tell might procure the nodding of collective heads in mutual understanding, or a burst of laughter for it’s seemingly outlandish detail meaning that it must be true! And what is more important than the truth… anyone’s truth?
A confession, too, may spark a discussion from those of us onstage. The other night we did a mini-show for a fundraising event for ABC Vagina Supply (which launches next summer) and one of the confessions intimated that the confessor had their first sexual experience with a group, and now, years later, they can only get off to images involving gang bangs and other group-sex practices. This person also confessed that they sometimes wonder if this predilection means they are asexual. After reading this confession I looked keenly at the audience and addressed the person who wrote it, whoever he or she was – You are most certainly sexual. You are simply… kinky.
Our kinks live -sometimes deeply- inside of us where we may not even know they exist. They are wired within; programmed by experience some may say but truly we don’t know. It’s helpful to give them credence, allow them a comfortable place within our psyches and our lives where they may flourish – without shame or guilt. The problem with shame and guilt? They make us believe shit about ourselves that are just not true. There are loads of people who get off to images of gang-bangs and group sex.
I confess that I am one of them. I also confess to belonging to the school of thought that says, If it’s in your mind and it gets you off, it ain’t hurtin’ nobody and since it helps you get off, might as well roll with it.
There is so much more I could say on the subject of kink, but I’ve got a brand new, not even out of the box dildo and strap-on harness that I’ve been dying to make sure fits, so back for now to the subject of confessing so that I can get to trying it on ….
I do a lot of confessing. It’s what I do. I am certain it puts some people off, unnerves them perhaps, or causes discomfort for them in some way, especially if the confessing is of a sexual nature. But confessing is self-disclosure, and isn’t that how connections are formed, how bonds are built? There are numerous theories on disclosure (and I won’t get too academic here, because well, I don’t have the capacity to – I am blonde after all,) but one of my favorites is the Johari Window~
The open pane (Arena) is what we know about ourselves and what others know, too (for instance y’all know I like gay black gangster porn, I know I like gay black gangster porn). The Facade pane is what we know about ourselves but hide from others (okay, I am a pretty full disclosure girl but I am sure I have something I keep to myself. Let me think about that for a moment). The Blind Spot pane is what others know about us that we don’t know about ourselves (Hehe, we don’t like thinking about that one much, do we?) The Unknown pane is what no one knows about us, not even ourselves. And it is inside that window where the opportunity for growth lies – in finding out what we didn’t know we knew.
Like the confessions we don’t know we have. They are there, we just don’t know they are. The more information we disclose about ourselves rather than hiding them from the world or even ourselves, the bigger our Arena window gets and the smaller our Facade window becomes. Likewise, the more we come to understand how others perceive us, the bigger the Arena pane becomes and our Blind Spot window shrinks. It is through our openness that encourages mutual self-disclosure.
For example, I might tell you this – I had so many mind-blowing orgasms the other night that I thought I might need resuscitating afterward!
And you tell me something - I pegged my boyfriend for the first time and now he’s an official ass-play convert!
Bonding ensues. Connections are formed.
And I become jealous as hell that you have a boyfriend to peg, because, see? I have this strap-on that I just got…
Oh right… confessions.
Of course, there is the possibility of causing discomfort to the recipient of the confession, or of betrayal of the secret and even ostracism as a result. So confessing is more than a feel-good remedy, untethered to consequence; it requires trust and a relinquishment of any fear attached to its disclosure. But releasing that fear and bequeathing trust can be wonderfully cathartic in its own way.
Trust me. I know.
I don’t press anyone to confess with us unless I can tell that they really want to but they are simply feeling shy. I judge this by reading their facial expressions, noting the tone of their voice and analyzing their body language. I have walked away from many a person who said, I got nothin’ with a warm smile and friendly appeal to enjoy the show. And more than a few have come up to me afterward and said, Oh, I remembered something! and proceeded to tell me to my happy little face exactly what their confession, the one that they previously didn’t know they knew, was.
And isn’t it always good to remember, re-learn, or discover for the first time what we didn’t know we knew?
And with that, it is my turn. Time to go discover if that strap-on fits.
And no, there will be no pics!
Looks like there’s something behind that Facade window after all.