My way of teaching esoteric sadomasochism is primarily relational. It’s a practice of taking private fantasies and turning them into relational desires. Over the years, I’ve studied the intimacy of such integration. What the steps are for moving from being two strangers to each other into curiosity and collaboration. Power dynamics like these are highly collaborative. They are not forced onto anyone, rather the opposite, they are often deep longings yearning for expression.

By now, it’s almost comical to me, that most of my events lack straight men. Normal heteronormative dudes. Maybe it’s because our patriarchal structure has taught them to compete rather than relate, or taught them that they are an incel that never will be allowed to win. And with that comes a fear of losing something that wasn’t a competition in the first place.

There is this structure I’ve done hundreds of times with tens of thousands of people over the years. A circle of people watching the centre, people step inside, meet the gaze of others in order to gauge if there is a power dynamic there worthy to acknowledge. If there is, the submissive always makes the first step, by dropping to their knees, and the potential dominant accepts the gesture if they wish. And then, as Stanislavski from my theatre studies books used to say, the only thing you need for a play is knowing your status. So they play with everyone as their witness. The play itself is rarely that extreme, due to lack of negotiation, and being mostly strangers to each other, but it is meaningful, because it taps into a felt relationship.

Of course, what can be more frightening than being rejected in front of fifty people, or a hundred, or two hundred? Is there anything more indicative of a loser? The ultimate failure of a dude. And sure, on one level it is. But unless one can handle the rejection, one can never reach intimacy. One has to take a leap of faith. To say I think I like you. Or to lean slowly for a kiss, all butterflies and belly. A kiss that might be rejected. And it will be awkward. But it might also be fantastic. And I don’t really think this is a dude problem because everyone faces this. It’s just that most non-dudes have been taught better how to deal with it. Maybe the term is relational skills.

The key, once it fails, because it always will from time to time, is to be vulnerable. I often make space for this, for people to share openly about what was hard for them, without comments, suggestions or any cathartic healing attempts or interventions. Simply to be heard and seen in something that usually is shameful. This is obviously a very fundamental relational skill, and when people display it in front of the group, others will respond by being more open and inclusive towards them. Because they can handle the rejection, and they can be vulnerable about it. So it’s safer to play with them. And maybe just maybe let some of that submissive desire express itself towards them.

But instead, all too often, the normal heteronormative dude who just lost the competition of being chosen inside the circle will attempt a comeback and let the opportunity of a vulnerable sharing turn into a lecture about something where he is clearly a knowledgeable winner. For example, about how these non-verbal practices of power are just like learning Argentinian tango in harbors of Buenos Aires. The result is everyone wondering what this has to do with the hardships in the practice they all just shared together.

My friend, the Swedish Herzog, who has been in the theatre world long before I was born, told me many times about the cycle of drama. First you have the shy falling in love, the butterflies in the belly before the kiss, and the making love, understanding, admitting and expressing why the other is the greatest. Then it eventually and inevitably shifts, a fight, a misunderstanding, an I hate you, I want to hurt you, and I never want to see you again. Space, distance, separation. Slowly but surely, the missing and longing begins, the self-questioning, if this really wasn’t meant to be, or if we made a mistake after all. So let’s try again, be vulnerable, beg for forgiveness. Please take me back. And if the answer is yes, then the cycle starts over. Over and over again.

I’m sure if you’ve had enough relationships, you have experienced this. Because it also happens inside the micro cosmos of a retreat. You meet someone, have an amazing exercise together. But then all of a sudden they are dropping to their knees before someone else inside that circle of witnesses. You try to talk a little during dinner, smooth things over, show that you actually really like each other. And end up having a fantastic play that evening, all night.

What I deeply believe is that one can practice these relational skills. To communicate attraction and rejection, and to abandon things, and maybe get back together. To make them part of the play. To use them to be more vulnerable and befriend the demons that once haunted. Because I can only trust a yes, once I know there is also the capacity for a no. If I know that someone dares to abandon and reject me, only then can I really trust their attraction and invitation. And hopefully, we, as in humanity or even as just a group sharing a retreat together, can learn to handle this with elegance and ease. Maybe I can even allow myself to play with being desperate and pathetic for someone.

Then, yes, of course, there are different levels of how much relational discomfort people wish to play with. It’s OK to marry your high-school sweetheart and stay together as promised in front of God until death does you part. And it’s equally OK to have a hobby, like esoteric sadomasochism, that involves relational intensity and some high-quality drama and emotional masochism, especially when taught by me, some people say. Or one can approach it as a ritual, or a rite of passage, and a once in a lifetime opportunity to learn something deeply about themselves. Because these dynamics always exist, in intimate relating and in society at large.

In a way it comes down to boundaries, learning how to communicate and protect yours, and understand and respect others. And I experience it so often — people who are bad at boundaries get very triggered by others who are good at them. Maybe because they over and over had their boundaries disrespected or had to protect them with violence, while others just take it for granted that theirs are respected when expressed with elegance and ease, and even have the audacity to propose playing them. That can for sure be triggering. And sadly life hasn’t treated everyone equally, some navigate these relational skills easily, while others have to learn, or at least face the fact that they lack them.

But to pretend that intimacy isn’t a vulnerable and collaborative effort, rather than a competition — I believe that is a great mistake. Because desire always comes with a risk. With an adventure to be had. There is this legendary live broadcasted television interview from some Olympic games. A young, freshly out of school, and obviously very nervous reporter asks one of the 100 metre sprinters just before the race: But aren’t you nervous? You are representing your country, live in front of millions of viewers — what if you fail? The answer was very telling: no, I’m not nervous, I’m excited. Excited to play out this high quality drama of life. And if this isn’t your forte, you can always relax into the timeless advice from Homer Simpson on his deathbed, revealing his biggest life secret: Never try, son. Trying is always the first step to failure.