(The White) Rabbit Redux

January 28, 2009

I call him The White Rabbit because he was the one I followed into kink. I’ve never met him and I probably never will. I’m not even sure what he looks like.

We met on a vanilla dating website. I had a fairly strange initial phone conversation with him. He wanted a TPE 24/7 master-slave arrangement with no ‘outs’ for him. His fantasies involved some fairly extreme, risky stuff: forced (bareback) bi; forced breeding; branding; drowning and breath play; total castration; etc. In retrospect, it’s clear that he was describing pure fantasy most of the time. Like his initial fixation on having his genitals removed, or agreeing ahead of time to be ‘put down’ (or ‘sent to Thailand’…what?)  if I tired of him.

I always had a feeling of unease or imbalance while talking to him. I’d think I had him pegged, then he’d come out with something so incredible that I’d be thrown off again.

He told me he was a millionaire with homes in Manhattan Beach, Greenwich and New York. He was a day trader who’d recently made about four times what I make in a single year on some trade involving AIG. He’d patented something that was currently on display in the Smithsonian.

He told me he was a writer, that he had a book being published this year. He had another in the works. He was planning a third one about kink and femdom and was hoping that I’d serve as a muse for the project. Since I’m not ‘out’ about my kinkiness (and have no plans to be), I wasn’t too keen on being the focus of this book. Especially after I found out he wanted to call it The Gilded Cage: The Modern Geisha.

Yeah.

He said that his father had been a loan shark and that his uncle had been a founding member of the Hell’s Angels. The latter once decapitated a state trooper.

The most insane claim was that he had no fear. The White Rabbit was never afraid. That’s why he wanted a really severe mistress, someone who could inspire some feeling, some reaction in him. Pure Freudian blah-blah-blah. Brutal father + disconnected little boy = terribly abusive childhood. I would help him play out this little psycho-drama correctly by somehow instilling the fear in him that his big, mean, underworld daddy couldn’t.

Right.

Rabbit would call me randomly. Sometimes it was every weekday for two or three weeks in a row. Then silence for a long time. Then a phone call out of the blue. I was pretty sure he was married or otherwise involved, and told him so, but he denied it smoothly every time. I still don’t believe it. What good-looking millionaire (assuming anything he told me was true) manages to get to his late forties without having been ensnared at least once by a wily, bronzed and buffed bunny?

Maybe it’s just my native cynicism at work, but the most believable things about Rabbit were actually the worst things.

The White Rabbit was a hard-core Republican. (He actually voted for McCain, which reveals the true depths of his depravity). He was racist and well-versed in that pseudo-scientific hogwash that eugenicists spew. He had no fucking clue about female sexuality; even his grasp of a lady’s southerly anatomy was shaky. He admitted that he was very selfish in bed. He had lost his ability to climax from sex and was no longer interested in vanilla sex. He was a misanthrope who worked long hours to avoid human contact (“alone but not lonely”, he claimed). He was self-centered–other people didn’t matter unless they represented some value for him (always the businessman). He had an Asian fetish.

Ugh.

It should not come as a surprise that the Rabbit’s ad on the dating site mentioned that he was searching for “that elusive dream, the perfect woman.” For him, the perfect woman was a ravishing, sophisticated bitch who was materialistic, ruthless, hyper-sadistic, utterly amoral, and purely selfish (and a bit of a man-hater to boot)…the usual sort of character you come across in femdom porn. A Super Dominatrix, in other words.

Once he decided that I was that perfect woman (though it was clear that he was selectively ignoring the parts of my personality that didn’t fit the model, like a sense of humor, and, um, sanity), he insisted on a 24/7 arrangement, even marriage. All this without having met in person once.

He said he adored me (I’m not fond of this word, which gets thrown around in a BDSM context a lot. You adore an idol, a god, an idea, not a person). He said he loved me, but the way he said the word, ‘love’, was indescribably awkward, as if he had to force the word out. (And of course, you can’t love an idol, a god, an idea. You can love a person).

In retrospect, I’m surprised the experience didn’t turn me off kink for good.

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One Response to “(The White) Rabbit Redux”

  1. Axe Says:

    Ok that’s a lot of weirdness.

    It’s pretty damn funny, the extremes his personal stories went. Almost as though you were expecting it to continue to get weird.

    “I want you to chop off my limbs and keep me in a giant pickle jar. Oh and did I mention I invented trout?”


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