In the wake of yesterday’s events in Boston, I realize there truly is no such thing as normal. Nothing has been normal in a long time and nothing will ever be normal again, forever, anyway. I hate the word “normal”. I believe we’re now, more than ever, in a perpetual state of normalcy.
This past Saturday night, my husband Davy and I were but two of 4,000 attendees at Wasteland, in Amsterdam. I was dressed in Burlesque and Davy in Leather Punk. Normal? It doesn’t matter.
“All four thousand of us were there with the sole goal of having fun.”
No. I’d say there were 4,000 different goals under one fetish roof. And this is the beauty of it all. It’s what you make of it. A spectacular pansexual fetish extravaganza where you could do, or not do, pretty much whatever you wanted while exposing as many sides of yourself as you wanted with or without the aid of others. And out of respect to everyone who was there on Saturday, I am only posting photos of myself and performers. Some of the performers below:
Going in these were my expectations, and how they were or weren’t met:
– I expected to get in, and I did. The door bitches were incredibly sexy scary checking us from head to toe, even tugging on Davy’s clothes to check for quality. They were gauging his reaction to this as well. But I knew we wouldn’t get turned down, just initiated.
– I expected to feel intimidated, and I wasn’t. As we stood with everyone else, all wearing coats and awaiting entry, Davy and I made small talk with some and exchanged smiles with others. There were newbies like us and veterans too, and we were all about to get Wastelanded.
– I expected to see people in more lavish costumes than ours, and I did. There were those completely naked (or with genital rings) and those dressed regal like Frankenstein fetish. Sometimes fur or bondage ropes served as attire while latex masks and chain collars and metal mouth clamps were accessories, for example.
– I expected to see people having sex, and I did. Lots of different kinds of sex (oral, anal, vaginal, or all of the above at once) between people of all shapes and sizes and colors and preference. There were mazes and dungeons, stages and dark corners everywhere for sex. I took the opportunity to sit in one of the sex swings and pose for a photo during the first hour of the party, before all the sex started happening. And the whipping, and other painful things, if you wanted…started happening.
– I expected to have some form of sex myself, and I didn’t. Not at Wasteland, I didn’t. I was a voyeur although I did exchange friendly kisses with a couple party-goers, and dance on the back of a “slave” as it lay on the floor. But that was the extent of my exhibitionism (besides showing some skin) at this particular event.
The DJs worked it all night and the stage performances were pure spectacles. Davy and I were in various states of sober and very not sober throughout the night. From 10pm to 4am all our senses were overloaded. It was an experience without judgements.
We’ve returned to Belgium thereafter. Then yesterday innocent people suffered and died, which should never be considered normal. But in my own circle of friends, two babies were born yesterday too. Life must live on.
By today we’re all struggling to achieve some normalcy again good or bad. I’m struggling with whether or not this entire blog is even normal, wishing there was a flip of some switch I could stumble upon. For now, I continue to find normalcy through blogging.
We should all seek to find our own “normalcy”, which I believe exists, but “normal” is an extremely relative word and state of being.