How Dare You Call Me A Man Hater

(TW: Descriptions of emotional, physical, and sexual abuse.)

Sometimes, a creator presents a piece where their truth, their layered vulnerability, their authenticity, and their sheer empowerment knocks on your soul.

I live for moments like that.

They feed oxygen into my existence and keep me feeling alive.

This writing by -Pocket- on FetLife was one of those moments for me. I suspect it will resonate with many of you on a visceral level as well.


How dare you call me a man hater.

I was busy loving men when I was 17.

He lied and cheated.

Rather than be accountable to his own shitty behavior, he taught me that my jealous insecurities were a character flaw that made me unlovable.

He taught me that having trust for men is a responsibility I hold, and an entitlement he held, regardless of his actions.

He taught me that good girls are not teases, because that is actually abusing men.

He taught me that the evaluation of my body should be through his eyes.

I learned that I was unlovable but that he would teach me how to be loveable. I learned to hate my body. I never had an orgasm from PIV but I faked them for his ego, and learned to think that sex without orgasm was just normal.

And still, I never stopped trying to love men.

I was busy loving men when I was 21.

I was serving my country in a foreign land.

My brothers in arms raped me.

I could not bring myself to hold them to account. Because I was a good girl, and a dedicated Marine, and I knew that destroying a man’s career was a crime against humanity.

I felt too much empathy for their situation to harm them.

They taught me that suffering was my fault because I was broken. They were right about one thing: I was now actually completely broken.

I was raped again.

I wanted to sever my soul from my body I fucking hated my flesh so much.

And still, I never stopped trying to love men.

I was busy loving men when I was 25.

He was an angry drunk just like me.

We loved and hated each other with complete abandon, second only to our love for booze. Completely insane now, I was surrounded by other lunatics.

He taught me that suffering together was better than suffering alone as he beat me to a pulp and abandoned me unconscious in a pool of my own blood.

He taught me that when I finally gathered the courage to fight back that I was also an abuser.

He taught me that we are all fucking lost and that we are all fucking unlovable, and the world is a cold and meaningless place. Love was a cruel illusion in this hellish landscape where I lived.

And still, I never stopped trying to love men.

I was busy loving men when I was 30.

Finally, now sober, starting to clear the wreckage.

Therapy. Fearless moral inventories. Amends. I learned to take responsibility for myself. I learned to get good at that because I realized my life depended on it. I was doing the damn work. I learned that I was signing up for a lot of bullshit from men because I would not raise my bar.

I became committed to fixing my picker and to being a person who I could love enough to make room for higher quality men to love me.

He came as a knight in shining armor. He was stable and normal and just a regular good guy. A little boring but a stable, family man. Then he consumed our life with massive debt because he needed his toys.

He taught me that if I tried to right the ship I was in, that I was a joy kill and a nag. He taught me I was a control freak when I made a case to curb the spending. He taught me to distrust the part of me that was trying to protect myself and build a sense of security in my world, because that was more comfortable for him than to admit he was bringing it down around us.

And still, I never stopped trying to love men.

I was busy loving men when I was 35.

I became a feminist.

I devoted myself to learning the social constructs that make men and women so that I could learn the secret code that was eluding me in my lifelong pursuit of loving men.

I became fascinated with intentional power exchange.

Finally we can be honest about what the fuck this love shit is. I submitted.

I felt freedom. I did my part.

He taught me the luxurious experience of loving through actual consensual pain and service. He taught me how to have purpose in that, and I did so love it.

He also taught me that no amount of giving on my part will obligate him to giving back when I had needs that interfered with his wants.

I learned that his compulsions for self destruction were actually needs, and my desire not to enable them was unrealistic and harmful to him. I learned to hold my tongue as self destruction ate him alive in front of my eyes, and powerlessness devoured my dreams. I learned that it was controlling behavior to try to help a man because I loved him and could see his demons so fucking clearly, having already conquered the same ones myself.

I learned to hate myself for seeing things clearly and mirroring them back relentlessly until abandonment was assured.

And still, I never stopped trying to love men.

I was busy loving men when I was 40.

Beautiful submissive men who taught me to feel embodied power for the first time in my life.

He taught me how to embrace the feeling of being in control with abandon in so many passionate moments.

He also taught me how his cock was still the only thing that really mattered.

He taught me how my value was still derived as an object of his desire. He taught me to love feeling my power, right up until I tried to call him to account for actual harms he was doing to me or himself.

Then he taught me that basic accountability for his words and deeds was too much to ask, my expectations were too high, that his inability to own his shit was still my fault.

I learned to beat myself up for wanting too much.

And still, I never stopped trying to love men.

I was busy loving men when I was 45.

I tried vanilla again.

Love is love I told myself.

I loved with abandon and believed forever fairy tales, again.

I tolerated subtle abuse because I had learned to have so much empathy for all the ways men are broken by toxic masculinity. I forgave with abandon. He isn’t perfect, I said. I am not perfect, for fuck’s sake I have PTSD so bad I can’t even leave the house some days, so I have to have empathy for his imperfections.

After all, I can see how his rage stems from his own experiences with trauma. He will love me for not abandoning him in his pain and showing him the way out: accountability, honesty, facing fear. Be patient, I told myself. He will grow.

He taught me that his abject terror of inadequacy, taught to him by his abusive father, was my responsibility to navigate carefully. He taught me that I should own all of my shit and most of his because he was simply unable to carry the burden of his trauma and face his shortcomings.

I was strong and wise enough to see it wasn’t really me this time. I had all the language and tools I needed, so he couldn’t possibly hurt me beyond my superhuman abilities to heal myself from abuse.

The gaslighting, the negging, all to save himself from basic accountability – they slid off me like water on a duck’s back because I was so fucking immune with self knowledge.

He lied to himself, he lied to me, he blamed me when I called him out on his delusions. He made me the bad guy because calling him out on his actual shit was equivalent to berating him, equivalent to abusing him. He would scream as he threw tantrums, destroyed property, and as he put the safety of me and my pets at risk.

Trying to teach him things I have learned in my healing journey from trauma was still somehow me disrespecting him.

He could not grow, because learning was literally too painful to his ego for him to bear. He taught me to have shame for knowing things he didn’t. He taught me that if I cannot love him from the little box he made for me so that his fragile ego could feel safe, then I am not lovable.

When he finally left for good one day, on the premise that I was somehow inexcusably abusive for very quietly complaining about something he promised to do but didn’t, he taught me that no amount of empathy for the inability of a cowardly mother fucker to own is his fucking shit is healthy or productive for him or for me.

He taught me to regret being so fucking empathetic.

And still, I have not stopped trying to love men.

I am 50 now.

Back on Fetlife, I am engaged in the search for men to love. I do this in the face of countless men on this site foisting responsibility for their shortcomings onto women day in and day out in forums, in status updates, in inboxes.

I do this in the face of being lectured on “not all men.

I do this in the face of disgusting displays of violent threats when he is told he is not a good fit, usually because he has demonstrated he has no internal sense of accountability for the way he reduces women through his dick centric/toxic masculinity infected worldview in various ways.

When I tell him he is not empowering women with his attitude, words, or actions, he teaches me that he is a terrified coward who is unwilling to do the work to be a better human, and he will defend his right to be unfuckable and angry at women about it until the day he is dead.

Daily he teaches me that he is dangerous because his slavery to his fragile ego keeps him on edge and ready to lash out at any perceived threat.

And still, I have not stopped trying to find men worth loving, and even now have found a few showing up in my world.

Even now, I am still loving men.

And you dare to call me a man hater?

Fuck off.

I am a fucking Love Warrior.


I’m very honored that -Pocket- agreed to, and trusted me, with her writing and granted me caretakership of her beautiful piece here on my blog. I find it difficult to articulate the depths of which her trust means to me. Please follow her on FetLife at -Pocket- for more incredible, vulnerable and profound pieces from this extraordinary human.

FetCon 2022: I Had A Blast!

Hello Kinksters, I’ve been trying to get to FetishCon for years. But, life has had different plans. So, I get to see and experience it vicariously through my many friends who attend, teach and present at this incredible show. I was slated to teach, then the pandemic derailed all our lives. This year was the show’s 20th anniversary and we’re fortunate that Princess Kira agreed to share her 3-day FetCon 2022 experience with us as a guest post on Kinkology Blog. Warm Regards, Mistress Kye

by Princess Kira

This year, the 20th annual FetishCon took place in beautiful and sunny St. Petersburg Florida at the Hilton Bayfront hotel August 11th-14th.

Being late summer it was dreadfully hot and humid, I was sweating the whole time. Luckily the convention allowed ladies to strip all the way down to panties and pasties, which I obliged to do!

On Thursday the eleventh I made my way to St. Pete to pick up my FetCon badge and pool pass. The hotel lobby was sectioned off with opaque black curtains, one reading “ENTRANCE” and one “EXIT.” The small space that was left upon entering the Hilton Bayfront consisted of several check in tables, a short roped off line, and some hotel seating.

The makeshift lobby was muggy and hot due to the automatic double doors opening and closing constantly, I was sweating not only due to the temperature but my eagerness to get into the event.

Despite the line being reasonably short it took a little over half an hour to receive my convention badge because all attendees must confirm their identity with photo ID and sign paperwork before being granted access to the event. Consent forms are required so that all FetishCon attendees understand they have the potential to be photographed and filmed while at the event.

Knowing that everyone there was verified via ID gave a feeling of safety and reassurance for me. Practicing safe procedures is very important to me when attending events like FetCon.

Once past the black curtains and inside the convention I was overwhelmed with the level of excitement and noise. People were mingling everywhere, some dressed casually in their street clothes while others donned their best fetish gear and lingerie. The Hilton Bayfront hotel lobby was abuzz with FetCon attendees, every lounge area and plush chair full. This was the opening night party.

A big celebration to kick off the convention ensued, with a cake cutting ceremony and complimentary champagne toast. I opted for a harder drink from the Dali Bar located inside the hotel lobby, sipping a Sprite with white rum as I reconnected and caught up with old friends.

One of the best parts of these events is being able to see online friends in person. I couldn’t party too hard the first night of the convention though—my hotel check in wasn’t until the next day on Friday and I was scheduled to make an appearance at the Clips4Sale booth.

On Friday it was time for me to meet my fans!

My heart was racing as I put on my lingerie and did my makeup.

Believe it or not I have social anxiety and it takes me a lot of courage to attend adult conventions. Overcoming my fears and connecting with my longtime fans and supporters is always worth it in the end, though.

There is something so special about making that face to face connection, about being able to embrace my fans in a hug and see them light up.

I even put my fears aside enough to get up on the Clips4Sale stage and do a short interview with iconic Dominatrix Jean Bardot!

After spending time with my fans, creating some new ones and mingling with other fetish models I headed back to my hotel to rest up before Friday night’s parties.

FetCon was absolutely packed with fun parties and events.

Every single night a different party was going on!

This was one of the reasons I opted to stay at a nearby hotel within walking distance rather than reserving a room at the host hotel. While staying at the Hilton Bayfront would have been convenient, staying at the host hotel with its late night parties, crowded quarters, and slow wifi didn’t sound ideal to me.

Before hitting the Friday night Pervy Pool Party I headed to the Dungeon After Dark, an on site dungeon space reserved for All Access Pass holders. I ended up visiting the dungeon space every single night of the convention. The dungeon came equipped with several different kinds of BDSM furniture from spanking benches, X-crosses, and Shibari suspension rigs.

Play areas were roped off to avoid anyone getting too close to your scene, sanitizing wipes were provided, and the space was staffed with kink friendly security.

Each night I got my ass spanked and paddled in front of a bunch of strangers!

It was incredibly exhilarating to get spanked in front of so many people. One of the best parts of attending an event like FetishCon are the one of a kind experiences you can have—like getting your ass beat in front of strangers! Swimming in the pervy pool in just my bikini bottoms and pasties was another unique experience—when else would you be allowed to swim in a Hilton hotel pool with no top on?!

These experiences are another reason I make it a point to attend these events.

After my spanking it was time to hit up the Pervy Pool Party, which also took place every single night of FetishCon!

It was a nonstop party and there was never a dull moment, even when the DJ showed up late. The sparkling Hilton Bayfront hotel pool was lit up and filled with Bad Dragon beach balls and adorable inflatables—balloon fetish, anyone?

By 10pm the celebration was in full swing and all kinds of people could be seen hanging around the pool—latex and latex couples, medical fetishists, Dom/sub pairs and more. Bad Dragon was even giving out free nipple pasties and light up sunglasses at the DJ booth!

I had felt so much anxiety throughout the day but finally it was melting away as I stepped into the clear blue pool topless.

Drinks flowed and so did the conversation as the night went on. I met so many fun new people and spent quality time with friends. Everyone I talked to was so kind, I don’t think I’ve ever encountered a friendlier and more welcoming group of people. It was refreshing to feel at ease, to feel like I was with my people.

Saturday was a day full of filming for me.

With adult conventions bringing together so many models in one place, it’s the perfect opportunity for talent to collaborate with one another. If you’re a member of the adult industry and interested in working with others, consider planning a trip to an adult convention near you!

Since I spent the whole day creating videos with others, I was unable to make it to FetishCon until after the expo rooms were shut down but I was still able to enjoy the Dungeon After Dark and the Pervy Pool Party since they took place each night of the convention.

Sunday—the closing day of FetishCon—I was back at the Clips4Sale stage to interact with my fans!

If you dream of meeting your favorite fetish performers, check to see if they’ll be attending FetCon 2023.

Once again I got up on stage, this time with my partner! We played out a scene with another Domme for all of the FetCon attendees to enjoy. Being invited to the Clips4Sale stage was intimidating for me because I have awful stage fright!

But it was an amazing opportunity for me to overcome this fear in an environment free of judgement.

After my appearance I grabbed all the free swag I could!

I recommend doing this as soon as you get to any convention and not at the very end like I did. Free items have limited quantities, so you aren’t guaranteed to bank any freebies unless you’re quick to claim them. Luckily I still made out pretty good.

Then it was onto the vendors!

Again, I recommend checking out the vendors first thing! You never know what one of a kind items may be for sale.

FetishCon was absolutely packed with quality fetish gear—handmade leather, latex, PVC, wooden and silicone toys, and more! Not only that, there were vendors offering many hard to find items such as sex swings and BDSM furniture. One vendor that I made a purchase from was an insanely adorable adult “Build-A-Bear” style booth. I made a stuffed llama and got a pink BDSM collar for her, too!

Sunday night the FetishCon Awards and after party were held.

The closing night of the event.

It was quieter than I had anticipated. Everyone must have been all partied out after three days of nonstop fun. I know I was! The con drop was already setting in, my sadness about having to leave creeping up.

Since I could tell the celebrations were coming to a close and enthusiasm was low due to everyone’s exhaustion I kissed FetishCon goodbye til next year, saying farewell to all of my new and old friends before starting back to my hotel to finish the fun on my own terms.

I looked through my phone’s photo gallery back in my room, my face lit up with the memories of the weekend. It was an amazing experience and I cannot wait to do it all again. It’s barely been a month since the event and I’m already dreaming about next year

Find Princess Kira at: PrincessKira