Sorry about the posting lull. Work's been brutal. I get home and I'm just whoof until it's time to go out again. I think it's just the season(I don't know why Christmas would make people get sick more, but it seems somehow inevitable by ER logic that it would), and things will be saner around January 2nd.
It occurred to me that my greatest fear when it comes to being outed to family, coworkers, or other kink-unaware people in my life is not that they'll find it shocking or bizarre. (I'm maybe a little afraid that they'll find it totally boring and unremarkable, and then what will I do with myself?) My greatest fear is that they'll find it gross. There's a certain cachet to being "that weird girl who goes to freak parties and does some freaky shit." There's no cachet whatsoever to being "that gross girl who goes to disgusting parties and does some nauseating shit."
I'm weirdly torn. Part of me gets off on having a shocking secret identity. The other part of me wishes that constant lies-of-omission weren't a part of my life. Partly because I'm naturally a very (probably too) open person, and partly because I think all the squares in my life just think I'm boring. Because I can't say "I was at a fetish party and I got spanked inside a spaceship," and I don't want to make up some elaborate lie, I apparently do nothing with my Saturday nights. I met all my friends "at a coffeeshop" and when we get together we "hang out." Whooo.
Fortunately, the answer to all my nail-biting is simple--anyone who doesn't know me well enough to know the "real" me doesn't actually give a crap one way or another. They're way too busy fretting over what I must think of them.