… Okay, so maybe not. But it would’ve been a lot more interesting that way. Not to mention more topical in an age where boys could finally wear eye-liner and not be considered ‘weird’.

But rather than randomly throw lyrics to Thompson Twin hits at you, I’m here to continue my fledgling little SotW series, (that’s ‘Spin of the Wheel’, for the currently uninitiated; here’s a dime — buy a clue) ‘Dimestore Dominatrix’. Those of you that get it — bravo. But for the rest that don’t, here’s a brief history of, well, me.

Since I can legally market myself as a therapist but not a psychologist (even though that‘s where all of my bloody formal education and training has been) I feel I have some right in getting angry with those who are uninformed spouting advice; better known as the ‘dime-store psychologist’. (Look it up. It’s a fuckbuddy of the ‘armchair warrior — but where they do the deed, I have no idea. Some metaphors die half-way in, others live to see the final punctuation. Jury’s still out on that one.) Now that I have you in the right mood, dime-store psychs aren’t all bad. Hardly. Most of them happen to be in professions where they’re basically practising their trade and counseling people — the last part being for free. (You ever stop to think about all the shit you tell your stylist? Your manicurist? Your … Blackjack dealer? Buy those bitches a machiatto, please.) And, being that most of what being a therapist is about is just learning and listening to people, it’s not that big of a shocker that some who are actually formally educated in something besides clinical psychology have some pretty sage advice for you.

And then … there’s the rest.

The know-it-alls that think fucking watching Oprah makes them an expert on the human condition. (Though one would be surprised what they learn from listening to years of Howard Stern. Strange, perhaps — but valid.) If they confined it to lesser-travelled corners of the Internet, I’d be fine, but most of these people have huge audiences. And they don’t know the first thing about what it is they’re masquerading. You can fake just about anything these days, but take heed: those who are experts and professionals in the field in which you’re pretending will know.

And you will annoy the fucking shit out of them.

That being said — dime-store shrinkism. (‘Shrinkology’ sounds fun, but since an ‘-ology’ is the study of, we’re not studying shrinks, so an ‘-ism’ works best.) In homage to my hatred of fakers spewing bad advice, I have ironically labeled my own series ‘Dimestore Dominatrix’ — which will feature bits and pieces of random advice and experiences from a formally educated and trained therapist in the field of clinical psychology, but who has chosen not to be a clinician, and doesn’t like the boxed-in feeling of certification and licensing. A lot of it is common fucking sense, but backed up with hard evidence from various disciplines in which I have experience.

It’s also free, assholes. You’re welcome. Oh, but if you do seek to thank me for my valuable service — that ‘Donate’ button ain’t gonna hit itself. Just sayin’.

That being said … on with the first of many!

‘Fuck Me / Fuck You‘:

Fuck. Whatta word. Ain’t it just astounding how we use identical vernacular with such broad, contradictory expression? One thing remains the same about it, though: it’s always passionate. Whether it’s, ‘Fuck you, asshole!’ or, ‘Oh, fuck me, baby,’ it’s got intensity. There are other words for conveying a sense of mild frustration, ennui, or partial conviction. Oh, no — when we f-bomb, we’re fucking serious about that shit. (See?)

It’s no wonder then, why we somehow think it’s okay to fight and then fuck.

Blood’s pumping, red is the current view, and suddenly, we just want to fucking throw that Goddamned son-of-a-bitch against the wall and use his cock for all it’s worth — regardless of how we’re currently feeling about the man attached to it. Why? ‘Cause sex has no place in a logical equation of human relationships. That’s the point at which civilisation breaks down and raw, carnal instinct takes over.

But should it? In a culture where make-up sex is known across-the-board as ‘the best kind’, don’t we ever take a stop and ponder why that should be? (I know I do, but I’m a genius, and we’re always filling our brains with useless shit that may potentially be useful, if we could just find it applicable somewhere.) Lucky for me, this is. Very. Sure, it’s got biochemical bullshit written all over it — but is that the full story? Hell, no — but it does certainly contribute to things. Like I said — blood pumping, logical thought shut down, instinct taking over. I learned of the inextricable link between sex and violence ages ago, and have been captivated since. Fortunately, there’s enough Vulcan in me to allow me to constantly view everything from an objective, rational, detached standpoint — even when I’m in someone’s face and really, really wanting to throw a drink in it. (Yeah, you Podcast listeners will get that one.) So, luckily, I can see where I’m either going (or very near-to) ape-shit and pull back enough to examine the situation with clean eyes.

Like you guys, I engaged in (perhaps even more than) my share of make-up sex, for the obvious reason that it was fucking hot, dude! How can you not be enamoured with circumstances in which people are being thrown against things, clothes are being ripped from bodies, and the mad frenzy is resulting in so much pleasure and pain that the two become indistinguishable from each other thanks to the endorphin rush? And as anybody who’s studied the brain on a more than lay-level understand, it becomes a powerful, conditioned response — and your brain and body want it more, more, more. Soon, what have you got?

Come on, this one’s easy. A (ha) no-brainer, even.

All right, I’ll tell you. You have an addiction. Yeah! You know, that thing they medically call a disease? Where all rational everything has been defenestrated, and you’re left at the mercy of this conditioned response that resulted from this one really awesome thing your brain majorly dug that one time? So, of course, you do it again. And then again. And … again. And again, and again, and again.

Take-home message? Make-up sex is an addiction. Now, typically, bad shit comes along with an addiction. Things we don’t want, stuff with which others close to us don’t want to deal, and a number of other headaches and mass confusion leading to more bad decision-making, now that the original intent is somewhere back there with the first chick you banged when you were angry, in a relationship that was only so-so, making sex between you for the very first time, unfathomably hot.

In short, you were fucked. In every which way imaginable. Just like learning is a hell of a lot easier than unlearning, getting unfucked is an equally complicated, somewhat mind-numbing (literally) venture. First, you have to go about how you ordinarily would in the case of any addiction, and stop fucking doing it, you dipshit. And for us kinksters — that’s a pretty tall order. STOP having incredibly hot, somewhat unhealthy, but unfuckingbelievably hot sex? Actually, I should add — kinky sex, since — let’s face it. Most of the time make-up sex is the gateway to kink in a relationship. Not always, but when that much shit is going down, all kinds of bizarreness happens. And when make-up sex is the way in which a couple experiences kink — more power to them. But they shouldn’t be relying on the make-up sex as a crutch for getting back to the amazing bonding they got from being kinky together. It’s important to separate cause from effect here, and keep everything in its right place. (Yeah, I quoted Radiohead. You got a problem with that? If so, fuck you. I may not really like anything post Hail To The Thief, either, but Pablo Honey and OK Computer got me through college. So, deal.)

Of course, I digress. This is me, after all. Not some other therapist-domme whose blog you read. Moving on.

So. If you, like countless others, have found yourself relying upon the short-lived thrill and extended badness of make-up sex, do take comfort that you’re not alone — and, like me — recovery is not impossible. In fact, I’m going to give you the first crucial steps to get there. (You’re welcome.)

1. Get Kinky

I know, it’s stupidly simple, isn’t it? Well, for those of us in an openly negotiated kinky relationship, practising varying degrees of BDSM on a daily, or near daily, basis. So, for us lucky ones, you need to have a mistress-subby sit-down and decide what role anger plays in your relationship. Not the playful, sexy ‘you’ve been a very bad boy,’ sort of stuff. No, the real anger — the times you wonder if he’s incapable of remembering the items of a grocery list, or doing his share of the housework, or succeeding in bringing you flowers twice a year (’cause they are pretty) or willing to listen rather than tune you out because he’s sure it’s the same shit he’s heard a million times before. Those times. (I bet your blood’s already boiling.)

WAIT. Put down the crop, and listen. Closely.

In a good relationship, where there’s positive mutual affirmation, respect, and a genuine desire to find resolutions to problems rather than sacrificing the commitment, anger is a signal that something’s misaligned somewhere — and if you love each other — really love each other — you’ll look for and fix it. A funny little irony is that typically, men bitch about shit that women do, while the feminine gripe tends to be over what he’s not doing. Think about that strange, accidental complement for a moment. We’re each going about things in our own way, and it peculiarly can line up — if we make it do so.

She wants him to pick up the house. He wants her to stop bitching (about his not picking up the house, but still.) He probably also needs some silence — just a bit — before she bombards him with everything in the universe that’s been going through her head for the last 8 hours, when he gets home. (Okay, so a lot of my own private education has been via John Gray. Again, deal with it.) This still applies to our modern, feminist-infused — and in our case, femdom — day and age. But even if she works, and he doesn’t, or they both do, or they keep odd hours separately — the same applies. Men will always have slightly different needs than women, but there’s a way for everyone to meet in the middle and be happy. (Really.)

As before, in a relationship that’s openly negotiated, anger can be incorporated into kinky play so long as there’s full consent and zero coercion. This means, obviously, that, ladies: if you want to beat his ass because you’re having a bad day, then he’s got to be completely down with that. Some men will be, others are less inclined. So, as always, actual mileage may vary.

2. Angry Time Is NOT Sexy Time

I mean, shit — for a lot of us the last thing the girl wants to do is give you any pleasure, you self-centred son-of-a-bitch — when you’re acting like an asshole. But alas, some couples do find themselves in coitus even before the gloves are off. So here’s another important tidbit:

Sex does not signal the end of a fight.

If you must, take a negotiated sex break while you’re breaking the addiction. What is a sex break? It’s where you fuck and then resume the fighting. No, I’m not fucking with you. Once you’ve both had your jollies, it’s time to get serious again. Why? Because it’s going to be coming up again quite soon — and it’s better to deal with it before you head to your friends’ dinner party and one (or both) of you end up wearing the casserole. So, unless the both of you were able to mutually determine that the roots of your spat were stupid before sexing — consider the fight to be postponed on account of hormones — not concluded.

And just what do you do then, if you’ve taken a ‘sex break’ ? How do you pick the fight back up? First things first — you wait a good 15, maybe 20 minutes so that the sex haze has worn off. In fact, it’s that very reason so many couples incorrectly think that make-up sex is a good thing. One word. Oxytocin. When that shit’s flowing, life is wonderful. And that man that made you so mad as hell for … erm … something, is just so damned wonderful — how could you ever have been angry with him? (Of course, it all mysteriously floods back to you after you’ve cleaned up and checked your email. Hmmm. Funny how that happens … ) Naturally, the poor guy thinks this was a win and everyone’s happy now. That he’s managed to emerge victorious, unscathed, and with the bonus of an orgasm.

Oh, how very wrong he is …

Now, I hear you dissenters piping up in your gathering chorus. If sex is so crucial to a good relationship, (and make no mistake — it is) then does it really matter how the couple goes about it? Yes, and no. Of course, the assumption we’re making here is in the first part of the sentence: good relationship. If you’ve got that nailed down, then a bit of occasional make-up sexing won’t kill you — just watch out for it becoming a habit. That can in the long-run.

To illustrate, let’s take our emergent hypothetical couple here, and say that this has become a pattern for them. They haven’t been together for all that long, they’re relatively happy, and their sex always happens after a fight. For any therapist, there are sirens and bells going off all over the place — starting with the couple being pretty newly formed. Since time is the great revealer (– I know it’s not a word — fuck off –) of many things, any counselor worth their salt will fear that this relationship will never really gain solid footing, since it’s gotten such a rocky start sexually. This couple has yet to build a stable sexual relationship based upon trust and genuine admiration — something that could sustain them — since they’ve decided to skate by on fuck-and-fight, which may get you through six months, but not much longer than that. Not without major unhappiness, a sense of feeling trapped, and a general inability to quite get what’s wrong, while there’s the underlying sense that everything is. So, for a new couple, it’s practically a death sentence. For an experienced couple? Maybe a sign of laziness — or boredom. They’re seeking to change it up, basically feel secure in their foundation, and are getting a little sloppy. Again, the first blow won’t topple the whole structure, but repeated attacks will. Be forewarned.

Unfortunately, the best solution is the simplest — and most difficult to implement:

3. There Is A Time: For Sex, and For Anger — But NOT TOGETHER.

If you’ve allotted separate kink time to relieve the pressure of fights before they start — then good for you. So long as you keep a constant and open negotiation going, you should never encounter the negativity that can sometimes come from incorporating real anger with your kink.

While it may be very difficult not to fall into bed together at the first inclination that your fury is turning into fucking, you’ll find greater harmony and alignment in the long-term. If you love each other, and are still attracted to one another, it’s natural that you’re going to want to seize the moment. Don’t. It’s the hormones talking, and they’ll be there — if your relationship is a truly good one, with the right ingredients — once you’ve found a resolution to your current dilemma. Remember, once the hormones have subsided, the fight will still be there underneath them. Deal with it first. You’ll be glad you did.

Oh, and before I forget — replace your make-up sex with gratitude sex. It’s basically the stuff you thought you were having, minus all of the hormones confusing everything up in the heat of the moment. What the fuck is it? Gratitude sex is not what you’re thinking: it’s not the post-expensive-dinner-blow-job. Gratitude sex is the genuine seeking to bond — typically of both partners — after a real resolution has been reached to what may have been a threat to their relationship.

Why it’s ‘gratitude’ should be obvious; you just dodged a bullet. And fuck, that’s something to celebrate.

Have fun.

Tags: anger and kink, dimestore psychology, gratitude sex, healthy sexual relating, sex and violence, why make-up sex is bad for you