Control Tower

I’m always telling people who are dating to be honest, and I think
that’s good advice. However, I must admit that I have not always
practiced what I preach.

You see, not long ago, I decided it was too weird for me to only be
meeting people who already knew me. By which I mean people who knew of
“Mistress Matisse.” I’ve been writing this column and my blog, and
generally being a dominatrix-about-town for some time now. These days,
when I tell people that name, they know who I am. (I often don’t
introduce myself as Mistress Matisse. But even so, people at
sex-positive events will often cock their heads and say “Hey, don’t I
know you?” I keep hoping they’re mistaking me for Angelina, but
no such luck.)

While on one hand it’s great that I have cool readers and this tiny
sliver of fame, it’s also sometimes awkward. I get introduced to a
total stranger, but that stranger already knows a whole lot about me.
Or at least, they think they do. And starting a dating
relationship with anyone who’s already read all about your fetishes and
orgasms? Impossible. The normal getting-to-know-you phase is completely
shot to hell.

I thought, “Okay, the obvious solution is to meet people from
outside my usual pervy social circles. Like, normal people, who
won’t know who Mistress Matisse is, or care.”

One problem. I have no idea where the hell to meet normal
people.

I asked Max. “You could join The Mountaineers club,” he replied with
a smirk.

“Oh, very funny. No, that’s a wee bit too normal.”

So I did what everyone does these days: I put up profiles on
social-networking sites. I made it very clear that I was poly, and I
did mention, more briefly, that I was also kinky. And I went out on
some dates—innocent social dates, no sex or kink or
anything—with people who were completely unaware that someone
named “Mistress Matisse” even existed, let alone that I was she.

I thought I would feel pleasantly unencumbered by expectations, free
to share—or not—whatever parts of myself I choose in that
particular moment. But actually, I was wrong. I didn’t like it nearly
as much as I thought I would. I underestimated how much I’d dislike
being evasive when asked, “What do you do for a living?” I had decided
I would not utter a lie; I would just… be vague. I had forgotten what
a hassle it is to be in the closet. I thought that if I disclosed about
being poly and kinky, that would be enough. But I’m proud of my career
and what I’ve made of myself, and I need to be open about it. And when
I told a couple of the people I’d met, they all replied with some
variant of “Yeah, I thought you seemed like you were hiding
something.”

So, lying about who you are? It feels wrong and doesn’t fool anyone,
anyway. Seems obvious when I say it like that, but I guess I had to
experience it once again to know.

matisse@thestranger.com