You won’t find Consensual Nonconsent in any dictionary, Urban or otherwise, but it’s an important concept to those involved in the BDSM lifestyle. It’s especially important to me, because my greatest desire is a well thought out rape play – and my greatest fear is losing my power as a feminist woman.

Consensual Nonconsent is a complicated term. It’s the giving up of power, freely, consensually, but with the guise of it being taken away. It’s being ‘forced’ to perform a sexual act when really, you negotiated an agreement ten minutes earlier. It’s being able to feel like a damsel in distress in a dark alley when you’re really being loved by a dear partner.

Consensual Nonconsent is also an inclusive term, a way of talking about these things without them being “rape fantasies”. Some of you may call it PC, but I’ve had moments of talking about my rape fantasies where I realized from too many people who’ve been through this horrible trauma, that no one can ever truly fantasize about rape. It means something different to those who’ve experienced that, and I think it’s important to support survivors by using inclusive language that better represents what we’re talking about. Hence, Consensual Nonconsent.

Even though this is probably one of the most talked about sexual fantasies, it is also one of the most difficult and dangerous to pull off. Consensual-nonconsensual activities carry just as much physical risk as many other activities, but both the emotional and legal toll can skyrocket. Emotionally, it can be difficult to give up so much power to another person. For this reason, negotiation and open communication are absolutely necessary. Boundaries must be set before hand, and all participating parties must go into the negotiation with the feeling that they are acting of their own accord and not out of pressure from another person. Safewords are also important in case feelings change in the middle of a scene.

Legally, Consensual Nonconsent rides a grey line. Technically, no one can consent to being physically assaulted, for example. However, the realistic risk changes depending on your actions, location, and how many people are involved. With one partner in the comfort of your own home, you’re unlikely to have much risk. However, keep in mind as to whether your neighbors might hear or see you – you may find the police at your door suspecting you of domestic violence against your partner. If your desire is for a consensual-nonconsensual scene in public, consent becomes a huge issue. Remember that all members of a scene must consent and that includes all innocent bystanders. A friend told a story at a workshop I attended once; they had staged a kidnapping at a local restaurant, but forgot to consider the horrified bystanders who called the police as they watched three masked men carry a woman out of the restaurant. It didn’t really matter that each member of the ‘kidnapping’ party had a signed consent letter in their pocket; there were thirty odd people who had not consented to the emotional trauma of seeing a kidnapping happen over dinner.

It can take a lot of work to set up such a scene, but remember – you can’t have Consensual Nonconsent without Consent. It appears twice, for heaven’s sake. If you can make sure that everyone involved, or possibly involved, in the scene knows what is going on and has consented to their role, you too can play out some of your greatest fantasies.

My name is Dusk. I am 21 years old, and I am a serial monogamist.

This is something that seems strange to me in this day and age. My friends casually date, sleep with men and women they meet on Friday nights at frat parties, and chat about the best pick up lines. Our school newspaper’s “Sex on Tuesday” column recounts the author’s stories of one night stands and awkward morning-afters. Drunken sex is no longer talked about with the concern I feel it should.

Some days, I wonder what the hell is wrong with me. How did I end up this way?

I had my first kiss when I was six years old, on the playground at summer school. I had ‘boyfriends’ whose hands I would hold on the way to class during middle school, and for whom I would write love notes on Valentine’s Day. High school hit and I took a few years off, (the “emo” years) but when I started seriously dating, it was only one guy at a time…a long time. At fifteen I dated an eighteen year old senior; despite the cruel difficulties and destruction of ‘innocence’ that came from dating someone so much older, we had a good time. We shared ourselves with each other; no secrets, no doubts. That relationship alone lasted almost two years.

As that relationship ended, I found myself in another. They blended almost seamlessly together; D and I began to drift away, and I found that I was falling deeply in love with my best friend A. We had already known each other for a year, and even though he was known for dating a different girl every week, I knew he had been waiting for me to be available. The two of us dated for just over two years, and when the time came for me to graduate high school, he proposed.

Two relationships and I was already engaged. Not surprisingly (A was Mormon, and I agnostic) the relationship didn’t last. I fell into a deep depression after that, marring my first year at college. My second year I distanced myself more, swore off men, and made more friends. One of those friends was M. He lived on the floor above me, and we found ourselves spending a lot of time together with our overlapping groups of friends, and our involvement in the residence halls. I didn’t really think anything of it; I had sworn off men, remember?

That summer he asked me out on a date. He had also been dealing with a recent breakup and had consciously been waiting, because he didn’t want me to be a rebound. We’ve been together over a year and a half now. We’re planning graduate school to be near each other, and I honestly won’t be surprised if we end up married in the next three years.

But to this day, I still feel discomfort at being so different from society’s current norm. I never went out on a blind date or had a one night stand. I’ve never even gone on a date with someone, without the expectation of it turning long-term. In some ways, I feel like I missed out. I’ve had fewer partners than a lot of folks I know, and I sometimes wonder if I would have fun ‘casually’ dating. I try and see myself in those situations. Going out with the girls on Friday nights in short dresses and high heels. Flirting with guys at a frat, at a bar, at a party. Going home with someone. Then I realize that I just wouldn’t. My brain isn’t wired like that.

I grew up looking forward to the day I would get married. I read fairy tales, dreamt of my Prince Charming, and my Happily Ever After. Casual dating just doesn’t make sense in my world. It doesn’t mean I don’t wish it did; I envy those who can go to dinner with someone with no long-term expectations. I wish I didn’t place such a heavy value on sex, and I worry that I pass too much judgment on the ‘promiscuous’ girls I see here at school. Their self-confidence is something to strive for.

In the end, I have to live life the way I see it best. For now, that’s looking long-term for true love (even if nothing will ever be perfect). It has caused a lot of heartbreak, but also a lot of happiness, and I wouldn’t give that up for the world. Not to mention, I get to meet people like M, who were never interested in casual dating anyway.