I joined the National Coalition for Sexual Freedom recently. I have been told on several occasions that my eyes get all dark and psychotic when I get in your face and make you gasp and scream in pain. And should tears well in your eyes, my eyes are right there looking straight into your soul. That is me. That’s what I do. That’s how I express affection and that’s how I revel in the incredible beauty that your emotions are to me. The darkness in my eyes is not of malice; it is rooted in an almost desperate longing to wrap your soul around me and to dive into your heart and never emerge. There is nothing more beautiful to me than when you release every thought in your head and crumble to the floor and cry for me. At those moments I am filled with an immense gratitude for being exactly what I am. I am a sadist. But no matter how psychotic my eyes become when your emotions blossom in my grip and spread your wings, I am not. There is nothing wrong with me. In fact, there is something right with me. I see beauty and poetry everywhere and even though you will ache for days and sometimes for weeks after I make love to you, it does not impede my life or my social interactions and it does not make me a less productive member of society. Admitting to myself and to the world what I am was not the downfall of me. It was me finally claiming my birthright to simply be I am a sadist and I’m not fucked up because of it. I was fucked up before, when I donned social masks and shut down my emotions to shoehorn myself into what I thought was the proper and moral way to exist. And still, in today’s society, the DSM-TR-IV is used to “diagnose” and pathologize people who have found themselves and truth and love and trust and intimacy in BDSM. Read about the effort to remove consensual adult sexual expression as a psychological disorder from the next revision of DSM: Kinky is NOT a Diagnosis. Come join me at the NCSF.