The Biggest Regret Of A Kinky minx

It’s well documented that I don’t ascribe to the notion of regret, my biggest problem with them is that I feel it is easy to dwell on the past rather than learning and moving on. So why on earth am I writing about this topic again? Have I left something unsaid? Or is it just a time for revisiting, and reassessing old thoughts?

Let me start by answering that… With all the changes in my world recently – or, perhaps more accurately, with the big change in my life recently – I decided to treat myself to a new book. 365 Days Of Kink, published by Kink Academy, is a “journal of sexy self discovery”. Given my love of soul searching, and the path I now travel solo, I wondered if it would be a nice idea to do some digging in the garden of my mind. Much like the book I scrawled in on the banks of the Seine, only with a kinky twist that might help me get my ducks in a row.

Fortunately for my brain, which likes to dip in and out, the questions posed don’t need to be followed in any specific order. Quite the relief! And so, when I peeled open the pages earlier this week I was ready for whatever the random page offered me. Or maybe I wasn’t, nor the second. Not the third either.

I finally settled on this question after a good old flick through…

What is your biggest regret in regard to your kinky experiences?

If you’ve been reading my words for a long time, you may recall that I don’t really feel the need to regret stuff. In case you missed it, check out A Life Without Regrets which will bring you up to speed.

OK, you’re all caught up? So, I don’t believe regrets have a place in my world; I do believe in learning points and the Butterfly effect though. Things going badly in one area leads me to two questions.

1. What can I do next time to ensure a more positive outcome?
2. What good has come my way from the shitstorm that is this experience?

In answer to the question, I would still say I don’t have a regret about any kinky experience. Missed opportunities or experiences gone wrong. There have been scenes that have been less than satisfying, playmates who I pushed my boundaries without my enthusiastic consent and toys that have been more demanding of me than I would like. ‘Friends’ that were anything but. And, naturally, there is a huge sadness around the ending with S – even though it was the right decision.

Yes, I am sad around this parting of ways, but I don’t regret the choice to do so.

Having checked out the definition for regret I discovered that it is “a feeling of sadness or disappointment, which is caused by something that has happened or something that you have done or not done.” Collins Dictionary. According to the definition I do have regrets, I feel sadness for things in the past, however, I still don’t feel that these times are worth feeling regretful. However, another source (The Free Dictionary) states it is “A feeling of sorrow, disappointment, distress, or remorse about something that one wishes could be different”. Perhaps this explains why I don’t feel my sadness is remorse. Because I am grateful for the paths I have travelled, for the people I have met and my lens giving me the opportunity to empathise with struggles rather than to purely sympathise with the stories.

The nearest thing I have found to a biggest regret is nostalgic sadness.

Sadness for the twenty year old me who was so ashamed of her kinks that she bundled them up. Put them in a drawer, locked it and swallowed the key. Then she married the first man to profess his love to her.

Via text.

From the toilet.

In the next room.

Damn, he didn’t even SHOW her he loved her.

The time he and I were together is fairly well documented here on the blog. As are some of the issues I’ve faced since moving him out. But though those years of living as man and wife started badly and became progressively darker, but the unexpected outcomes are like prizes for me! My children and an unwavering understanding of my boundaries and how to manage them, priceless! No, no-one should ever have to go through what he put my boys through. (Or what he put me through!)

The reality is that we’re all going to have negative experiences in our lives. What we do with those times can make or break us. I choose not to look back and dwell on the what ifs. It would be easy to get sucked into the eddy of negativity that is in my history. To find myself trawling the internet for “you are my biggest regret” quotes and memes. I DO look back, though with a kinder heart. How else am I to learn the lesson for next time? But it’s a glance in the rear view mirror, rather than stopping and turning around to stare at the view. (Doing that on the motorway would lead to carnage! No less troublesome for me in the self-awareness sense.)

So, what is my answer to the question of my biggest regret of my kinky experiences…

I’m afraid to say that I don’t have one. An answer or a biggest regret in regard to my own personal kinky experiences. I have said it before, I’ll say it again… How can I wish that my journey had been even slightly different? To imagine my world without my small people, or the friends I have and the love and warmth of my community is abhorrent. And had I found a way to the kinky community sooner, would I have met someone even worse than P? The what ifs work both ways. I weather the storm with P, I may not have made it out alive had I met a dangerous predator rather than an abusive partner with a toxic core. And would I have had the joy of belonging to S? What experiences would I have missed out on? What pickles and scrapes would I have endured?

No, the fact remains that while I am sad for the young woman I was, I can’t wish things had been different. Right now I am living my best life. I can’t have a biggest regret because I don’t want to change anything. Right now, I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. In my kinky lifestyle as much as my vanilla one. And I am enjoying taking the lessons from my past and applying them as I continue on my journey, observing the woman that is unfolding in front of my very eyes.