Ahhh - here is the part in the article that works great..... this addresses the issues in rely on others to "tell" you about what is involved..instead of actually doing this for yourselves...
(warning, this is a copy and past from an article, there might be foul lanuage I did not yet censor out - my pardons)
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"For decades, we sadomasochists have drummed ourselves on the back, saying we're so smart and creative and bold and honest and brave and loyal and faithful and true, we're the modern age romantics, the knights in black leather. But let me tell you, all of that gets shot to hell every time someone dubs themselves MasterHighLordBubba@aol.com and starts collecting "subbies."
I know - you're sitting out there nice and smug, thinking "well, it's not me, I'm real." And maybe it's true that every person here uses the name they sign checks with, avoids uncommon or archaic titles, uses correct grammar, never invents a personal history at odds with, oh, anything resembling reality, and never exaggerates their years of experience, past adventures, or future plans. Maybe - just maybe - everyone here does go home and live the same life they talk about at leather events, down to the smallest detail. In this crowd, I am sure we hare surrounded by the very crème de la crème of the Olde Guarde, total power exchange, Euro-Gorean 24/7 leather Levi fetish BDSM kinky lifestyle. I wouldn't be surprised at all.
Now don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that just because someone likes to be called Master means they're a big fat liar. I know lots of nice masters, mistresses and whatnots. And the fact is, role playing and secret codes and fancy names and make believe are all part of what we do, even the most serious, blood and thunder "living the lifestyle" purists. I wouldn't want us to throw that good stuff away any more than I'd expect a French chef to stop using cream and butter. Fantasy - it's what's for dessert!
It's when it becomes commingled with fact and history that pushes my buttons. For crying out loud, people, if you really want to be known as Mistress Anorexia of the Clan Slimfast, I don't care! No one cares! But when you try to tell people that your secret clan of ninja BDSMers goes back 100 years to the founding members in Budapest, and these are the secret rituals and clothing styles passed down by the Daughters of Dementia, and then you pass this kiddie crap off as real - come on. Just because a lot of people are gullible doesn't mean everyone is. Pull the hype back a bit and cop to the fact you made it up.
And what the fuck's wrong with making shit up?? You'd think it isn't any fun unless someone tells you a story about how authentic they are, or their toys are, or their methods are. Believe me, it's way more fun to know your partner has an imagination than to slowly come to the understanding that your partner is a loony.
Isn't it interesting, though, how we at the same time call ourselves rugged individualists AND seek to join special secret clubs? And we so desperately want to belong somewhere. That's what colors and leather and uniforms and styles and fashions and creeds and oaths and big parties are, really. But here's a clue and please pass it on to newbies when you meet them? Top secret ancient houses and clans and covens and klaverns of sadomasochists - IF they existed, and I am not saying they do - would NOT seek out members by chatting them up anonymously online!
No, really. They would be much more devious and creative.
And again, I hear you thinking at me, "But Laura, I know that crap! I don't fall for it!" And yet, even when you escape the clutches of Master Ox of Box and his Martian Love-boys, you still steer people to his website, doncha? After all, he has a lot of great articles and a personal ad services and some hot pictures of well hung guys. Or, you remain silent when Grandmaster Rooty-Tooty of the House of Pancakes is invited to a panel discussion and he proceeds to talk about his third generation training house, aka the double wide. Hell, you invite him! You pay his airfare! Rooty-Tooty there might be a great guy, a fun player, and his little slave chicks Fresh and Fruity might be eye candy, but the fact is, they're playing Klingons and we give 'em a place at the table because they play LOUD Klingons.
Yes, Klingons. These people, when they aren't at your leather affair are at a Star Trek convention with a horseshoe crab glued to their foreheads, screaming Ka-plach! at each other. The next weekend, they take the crab off and tell you how to live the master slave lifestyle, and you sit there and grin and say nothing. Honey, is that what you really want?
Stop the lies, people. Put the brakes on pretension and consider the most basic truth of all - we are valued by what we leave behind us, not by what is already gone. You think your spiffy blue collar needs a name? Fine! Name it whatever you like, name it George! But don't call it an Olde Guarde Collar of Discipline. You just confuse the newbies and make the alterkackers laugh at you behind your back. You want to call your split level ranch the Seat of Clan Silverwolf of Thunder Mountain? Knock yourself out. Just don't try to sell me on the way your parents trained you to be the Alpha Bitch of your Wolf Clan starting at age 9, and that's how you are born and raised to dominate all two legged creatures everywhere. Puh-leeze, folks. Do we really need more episodes of CSI?
(Although, if they want to bring back Lady Heather, I'm all for that.)
I'm not saying you can't play games! I love games, and I love a good story. But when you take elements from someone else's story - like when you try to be Gorean or Klingon, or even (shudder) Marketplace, you are selling yourself short. What you can be alone or with your partners is so much greater than what can be found in text on paper. And when you find you need to make up a story painting yourself greater than what you once saw in the mirror, remember, it might have be the story that gets their attention - but you, the person, need to keep it. Throw the story away and see if they stay. I guarantee it - you are better without it.
Believe it or now, what we do, no matter what you call it, is still transgressive, even though you can find SM books at an occasional Barnes & Noble. It is still exciting and different, and fun and challenging, eve if we do seem to have more organizational meetings than orgies. I realize that when people grasp at a fake history, fake names, fake philosophies, what they are saying is, "what I do, who I am, is special; I have a great story." We don't want to be common, and who does? What I want to tell you though, is the truth is exciting, it is special, it has its own value, and what's more, it's easier to remember and defend.
Every contestant in this year's contest said, more than once, that one key to their relationship is honest and open communication. And for over 20 years, I've heard hundreds, maybe thousands of the same people say the same thing, praising themselves and each other for being "honest and open." You're not being honest and open by pretending you're royalty. Honesty requires truth - openness invites scrutiny. You want excitement and thrills and danger? Then come out of your closets. You want faith and truth and loyalty? Then inspire them with actions, not Dungeons & Dragons names and imaginary histories. You want respect and admiration? Then foster them with behavior and deeds.
And for those of you smugly sitting there full of the knowledge I am not talking to you, your job isn't done. Silence is the voice of complicity. When you remain quiet in the face of bullshit, you are lending it your credibility. You are saying it is so, merely by saying nothing. You don't have to confront every pretentious blowhard calling himself Lord Nightwind of Destiny House. But don't afford him the same time and prestige of someone who goes by a more common name and has an actual address and fails the drama queen test. If someone has a real history, they should have something to show for it. Records, writings, photos, friends, organizational notes, something that says 'I was here then and did this.' Something more than a web page with a black background, flickering torches and rinky-dink electronic dungeon music.
So when your bullsh!t meter goes off, don't support the lies! Let's learn to celebrate our storytelling without pretending it's real. You can call yourself the Marquis of the Grand Duchy of Fenwick for all I care. But you still need a Metrocard to take the subway. Remember to laugh at yourself and feel free to say "I'm more than what I used to be, and this name makes me feel good." There's nothing wrong with that. But when you sit there and tell people desperate to be the heroes in their own stories that you were born naturally ready to take a role, that you never disobey, or doubt, or betray, or hurt without cause - that you live a life even fiction could not amply express, where there is plenty of time, plenty of energy and above all, you are always honest, truthful, loyal, devout, obedient, submissive, dominant or always ANYTHING, you are setting my bullsh!t meter off loud and clear and I'm f*cking tired of it."
