1. People there are friendly.
Ha! The only friendly people are the ones that want to play or fuck or enter into a relationship with you. Let’s be honest with ourselves. If these people were in your local burger joint, you’d eat elsewhere. Never before has venue been created to bring together so many incompatible people under one roof. It’s truly an amazing feat.
Think about that next time someone says “hi” to you.
2. It’s the cleanest place you’ve ever been.
Nope. Your mother’s womb was the cleanest place you’ve ever been.
Unless she was a crack whore, in which case, the floor at County Hospital that the drunken OB/GYN dropped you on is the cleanest place you’ve ever been.
That sticky residue on the spanking horse? That’s not a spilled soda. It’s leakage from someone’s ass, mixed with the lube they used to insert the butt plug, dried for three days, before someone else’s sweat reactivated it.
And, now you’re chowing down on the free Ding-Dongs from the catering area with the same hand that just spent 53 minutes swirling it around while you went all space-y. You’ve just had access to more alcohol than a Russian factory worker on a binge, yet it won’t help. You are operating in a sea of slime, needles, jizz, saliva, vaginal outbursts and anal explorations. Embrace it. Down and dirty beats Disney movies with the family any day.
3. I’m going to find the perfect slave/sub/Master/Mistress/top/bottom/Daddy/Mommy there.
What you’re going to find is Ted, the local butchers’ schizophrenic assistant with his toy bag full of rope and pliers, smiling at you with that missing-tooth grin, and halitosis that knocks you down from 20 feet away.
Or, “Sparkles”, the 3 days since a shower dream submissive who lives at home with her alcoholic mother and 8 cats, 2 gerbils and “Toby” the three legged miniature schnauzer. Her kink is sticking her finger up her ass and smelling it, and collecting her toenail clippings as a future gift for her yet to be found Dom.
On the other side of the room is “Savage”, the local ripped stud. Long hair, perfectly developed body, and just the right amount of facial hair and intimidating scowl have all the young girls lining up to catch herpes from him. He’s a self described “artist’ which is bdsm code for unemployed loser.
Still, once he borrows the cab fare from his parents, and unloads his three toy cases, he is truly the Master of the room for the evening.
4. Home away from home?
No, it’s not. Ever come home from work to find 37 people in your living room, and those people follow you around and watch everything you do?
I’m guessing probably not. It’s a place of business. It’s a place to get kinky-as long as you pay. Or, if you’re under 22 and hot, as long as you’re willing to play with/fuck/blow the organizer/owner/DM.
You don’t have to cover utilities, rent or other expenses. So come pay your money, get your kink on, and leave when you want. It’s why you go to a hotel to cheat on your partner. Because quite simply, some things can’t be done at home.
5. It’s NOT a dungeon.
Real dungeons are in castles. That’s right. Castles. You know, those things that no-one has built for about 800 years. This isn’t a castle you’re in, so stop calling your play space a dungeon. It’s an industrial property, possibly in a bad part of town. And there’s no moat. Look for a moat, I bet there isn’t one. Start calling it your local “club” or “space”. It’s more accurate, and people won’t laugh behind your back when you call it a “dungeon”.
Photo credit: Lust4lthr CC: SA
