Why I surround myself with kinky people

I embraced rejection instead of trying to fit in, found acceptance and love, and kept my personality free and authentic.

Friends in high places

I learned an important lesson when I was 17.

My mother had just died in a tragic car accident, and my father was in the intensive care wing at the hospital. While my brother and I prayed for his recovery, we briefly lived with an uncle in the east zone of São Paulo.

Lucas and I were raised in the evangelical church, having Christianity as the center of our morals and ethics and one of our primary sources of potential friendships — aside from school colleagues, whose majority I very much disliked.

The people from the church got along with my brother, but for me, it was different. Their interests were far from mine. They played soccer every Saturday and liked pop music and rap. I just wanted to spend my weekends playing Age of Empires while listening to metal.

Without many friends — nor girlfriends, mind you — in my central social circles — school and church — I believed I was doomed to die alone, with the furthest extent of my sexual experience being masturbating to slowly loading GIFs — my 56kbps modem was my best friend for quite some time.

Photo by Deon Black on Unsplash

I met Camilla at a church weekend camp a few weeks before my mother died. She, the cousin of a pseudo-friend from church, clicked immediately with me. Living near my uncle’s house, we met a few times while I stayed there and ended up dating for three months — a Christian relationship, sexless and faithful.

Camilla went on with her life after we broke up, but she gave me something much more valuable than a couple of kisses, some wandering hands, and even more reasons to feel guilty under the watchful eye of god. She introduced me to a whole new plethora of friendship possibilities.

Lessons learned

I realized a few things while I dated Camilla.

1. I had no friends in school because we didn’t share any interests.

2. I had no friends in the church because we also didn’t share any interests.

3. I had Camilla as a friend — then girlfriend — precisely because we shared many interests.

4. If Camilla existed — I promise she did — then others like her could exist.

5. I just needed to find this mythical group of people that liked the same things I did.

6. I wasn’t going to die alone — maybe still a virgin, but definitely not alone.

The first group of people that seemed to care about my presence was in first-degree contact with Camilla. One of her cousins, Bruno, introduced me to his friends; some are still in touch with me today.

With this group, I listened to Interpol — my favorite band — for the first time. They showed me Sandman, Watchmen, and Maus. My first drunk night out in a club ever — god forgive me — was with them. I started dating one group’s girls, and years later, we got married.

After a while, I made friends with some school people — from my brother’s class. As I wasn’t interested in fitting in anymore, I approached people I thought were a good match — one of them still very close, dubbed “Dany Crazy” by our peers.

This lesson was valuable and of utmost importance in molding my personality. I understood that there’s no such thing as “being weird and wrong.” I just needed to find the right group of people.

I was lying to everyone and building mask over mask to be accepted in some groups, and, well, this was over. From that moment on, I’d be gladly rejected by those that disliked my personality, knowing a group that would accept me existed somewhere. I just needed to find it.

Flash forward

After my peaceful and affectionate divorce, I started to live the teenage life I didn’t live — responsibility weighed on my shoulders while my mourning father recovered in my younger years. I didn’t do crazy things when I was 17, so I’d start doing it at almost 30.

I had finally rejected Christianity a few months before my divorce, losing most of my Christian friends. For the first time in my life, I was living alone, with a stable job, earning enough to go out anytime I wanted, and living in the heart of São Paulo. Prioritizing myself, I started applying the rules I had learned almost ten years before and found a new group of people that accepted me as I was.

These people were a bunch of kinky sluts.

Photo by Artem Labunsky on Unsplash

I explored my sexuality and the way I did relationships. I read, watched, listened, and lived enough to consider myself a non-monogamist and, later, a polyamorous person. I had sexual experiences I only knew so far in theory and took part in events that teenager Angelo only dreamed about.

These people helped me through depression episodes and panic attacks, led me to psychiatric support, and provided care and love, accepting me and making me know they enjoyed my presence.

found a new group of people that accepted me as I was: a bunch of kinky sluts

I felt I was part of this group. While I felt I was just passing through school, and in church I had chosen to talk to god and no one else, I found my feather family* in this group.

They helped me through questioning my sexuality, allowed me to try if I liked or disliked things, and were with me — sometimes naked — through the process of destroying Christian guilt and shame.

Kink: a broad term

One of the first things I did when I moved to Munich was to search for a group of poly people to talk to. I found groups of people interested in kink — a broad term. On dictionary.com, one of the definitions of kink is:

1. bizarre or unconventional sexual preferences or behavior.

2. a person characterized by such preferences or behavior.

Reading bizarre in this phrase already gives you the message: kink is not seen as a good thing by everyone.

I define being kinky as having unique tastes, especially sexually related. They turn you on, make you hard and/or wet, give you thrills, and put a weird smile on your face. It’s more than simply fetish; but is a term that encompasses much more. For me, non-monogamous and/or polyamorous people are kinky, even if they are entirely vanilla in the fetish world. Kink is about the openness to try new things, even those that society frowns upon.

Happily, one abyss calls another abyss. Kinky people start with inconspicuous internet searches, evolve to a handcuff or two, go through a shy selection of sex toys, become “party bisexuals,” and test their endurance with a flogger. Once you understand that being yourself is accepted and encouraged, your experiences become brighter and more profound. You learn to speak openly with your kinky community about your likes and dislikes, as strange as they might be. Communication becomes the most crucial part of the sex life, and learning that desire is acceptable and not a sin punishable by the fire of hell makes everyone’s lives better.

That’s why I surround myself with kinky people, especially LGBTQIA+, neurodivergent, and polyamorous kinky people.

I had learned that I should not hide myself to be accepted by people but show my proper form so they could entirely reject me. This way, I’d know who would not get the true me and would escape false and weak friendships.

Of course, the kinky world is full of dumbfuck assholes, stupid pricks, and bando de trouxas that ruin everyone’s day. I say this repeatedly: there’s always a motherfucker — if there isn’t, it might be you. I won’t let these dipshits ruin the whole community, though. I had a few bad experiences with specific people in these groups, but the pros heavily outweigh the cons.

Apart from these few rotten apples, most of the people I’ve met in kinky spaces are good. Their interests overlap with mine; openly discussing sex turns me on, and understanding trauma and barriers make me feel safe.

I surround myself with kinky people because I am kinky myself. It’s good to say this: I am an intelligent, independent, fully functioning adult and proudly full-time kinky slut.

Your turn

I question you, reader: what are you? Which group did you take part in life that ended up being a hole full of cow manure? Which community makes your heart warm? What people are your people? Let me know in the comments or in Substack’s app chat.

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* Please read Becky Chambers to understand this reference and improve your life by 300%.