There's a certain trust that's built when you teach someone. Chefs with no understanding of product design or metallurgy create a set of pots and pans for you to buy, even though they are completely unqualified to tell you about the metal that goes into their namesake. It is easy to dismiss this misdirection as a greedy money grab. But I think there's a lesson in here for both of us. That to teach is to give and folks want to buy from folks that give them something.

Misdirection is the basis of BDSM. You would certainly be forgiven for saying that trust, communication, or honesty is the basis. But those are just the primordial ingredients that make the misdirection possible. The trust that allows me to tell you to look over here and focus on this. I snap my fingers and point off in any direction that I wish you not to look. Your mind tries to connect the dots. The feeling of being told to look in one direction, you notice the slight movement and then you're forced to look this way now.

That's all abstract and fluffy. The magician will tell you what he is doing and as he slows down for you to watch, you have to wonder is this the real thing or the distraction. You can't take that lesson home and impress your friends, colleagues, or children. I understand you want substance. You want it all revealed before you.

And so it begins. A message. Probably low effort because you're not sure it's worth it yet. You want to say something more than "hello," but not too much that I get the impression you're desperate. I don't know enough about you yet. So I can't tell if you're the type to shoot something off without thinking and that's what I'm reading. Or did you take the time to carefully get your introduction into less than 50 words, and I'm supposed to understand all the details you're living out are really the message.

Introductions are quick. We both know where this is headed. You're not dumb, although you don't mind if I remind you that I'm in control. Perhaps it's my experience or intelligence or ego that puts me in the place. I don't stop and consider why. It just feels natural that you'll follow my lead and when you push back, I push back against you. That's how conversations should go, but also, that's how physical interactions should go too.

You make your move. Draw your line in the sand. I create the tension as you see me building a wave to wash it away. It's what you want, but can't ask for. Tension, build up, and then release. If you have to ask, it ruins the mood. That's the dance of misdirection. You're not innocent in all this as you first thought. You thrive on misdirection and tension.

I would like you to believe that this a slow and deliberate process. That it is measured and paced to match you. The reality is that there is no measure, except how quickly I unravel you. Like shooting you through a particle accelerator with no speed limit.

I want you to watch you turn your mind inside out to play with the ideas I put in your head. Ideas about your worth and what you deserve. Ideas about how connected you can become to your own body and the way it responds to me. That connection does not mean control. It means awareness. You will eventually find yourself craving the things I tell you to crave and your proof will be in the way your stomach turns inside out and your thighs tighten up as you question everything you've told me and you ask how did I get here.

Of course we both know. It was the misdirection. The way I asked you about your life so that I could manipulate the rules to my advantage. You thought I cared about what you had for dinner and who with tonight because I cared about you. Perhaps, I care enough to hope that your food isn't burnt and your company isn't boring. But I really want to understand your schedule, how long can I make you edge before you're expected to be somewhere and look presentable.

If you're looking for the rabbit hole that becomes the particle accelerator and you're missing that magic, I'd love to hear from you today.