You are obviously very attracted to me
my best friend’s polyamorous Tinder Dom reveals
in a deeply inauspicious WhatsApp message.
It is a complex matter, to query the truth of this suggestion.
On the one hand, I am quite certain
that I have never been attracted to my best friend’s polyamorous Tinder Dom,
but on the other hand,
have I not been wrong before?
I value the act of questioning,
just enough to try,
a chorus of ex-boyfriends applauding my emotional growth,
really coming out of her shell,
as I am brought to rope class for kinksters (Girl Guides for gimps)
upstairs and co-shared with a kickboxing club,
socked feet meet crash mats in glib biro-blue.
The rope couples are so normal, they’re boring,
standing there in their bare arms and activewear
having a good time!!
It makes me think un-erotic thoughts
about karate class with my stepdad when I was twelve, and awful,
hoping to break a brick with my bare hands,
wondering if it would hurt.
When I am roped, my flesh puffs grossly,
my skin pink and throbbing with thwarted blood,
fat rendered into introspective Bratwurst,
bursting at the ends,
cold, on my knees, in a gym, on a Wednesday.
The body adapts to stress,
to the compulsion to say yes,
to open eyes, inert body, indexing ceiling tiles,
mouths sucking wetly over mouths,
carpet grain carved into cheek.
Have I ever really been attracted to anyone?
I ponder the question in a polyester sweat-sheen,
kink shaming my own limp desire
to read a book and refuse to fuck anybody.
The weeks stretch long as latex,
as I dither over the block button,
like a cat who can’t get comfortable.
It takes so long that my best friend
breaks up with their polyamorous Tinder Dom,
and suggests that I might enjoy a weighted blanket instead?
I add one to my rope-free cart
before some cut-price cargo shorts Daddy-Dom can tell me
You need to be more active in the kink community.
Featured photo courtesy of Damien Levi.