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I’m a pervert. My best friends are perverts. Virtually everyone I interact with on a daily basis these days is a pervert.

That doesn’t mean we’re creepy about it. All shifty eyes, predatory, or rife with shame.

Cheeky, yes. Creepy, no.

Mistress Joanne: “No one can shame you if you are not ashamed.”

I live by these words. I live by a different “normal.” My proclivities are only unhealthy if the feelings surrounding them are unhealthy. And it seems that I’m not alone in this. I’ve seen a similar self-awareness in my nearest and dearest.

What’s jarring is meeting newcomers to the dungeon who look vaguely ashamed, embarrassed, or self-consciously predatory, completely aware that they are a “deviant.”

I want to grab their shoulders and shake them and say, “Look! You’re a pervert! Embrace it! You’re a pervert! Accept it! Don’t be so creepy about it!”

I obviously don’t have consent for this. The newbies will either come around to this view, or they won’t. It’s not for me to control.

But do you really want to come off like this guy?


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