Let’s look at a couple of relationship snapshots. Couple 1 is walking in the park, holding hands, talking about something going on in their lives as the scenery forms a backdrop for them to be together. Couple 2 is at home. One partner is sitting in a chair reading a book, the other is sitting on the floor polishing boots. They’re not talking, and actually they seem absorbed in their own worlds.

Is one relationship “healthier” than the other? Is one of them love where the other is not?

Of course we don’t know, because it’s just a snapshot and a relationship isn’t an isolated moment, it’s a narrative. Snapshots fit into an ongoing story, and that’s how they get their meaning. The same action performed in a different narrative could have a radically different meaning. For the first couple, the idea of sitting silently in the same room doing different things might be the opposite of an expression of love – it might signify that the relationship has broken down. Meanwhile, for the second couple, this could be their perfect understanding of how they want to be together that evening.

Events make sense in light of other events. So, sitting on the floor next to your partner engaged in a task may make sense to you as part of your romantic relationship in light of the dynamic you have negotiated, your comfort with your partner or the way you express your role in your relationship. To your partner it makes sense too because you have a shared concept of your relationship, which is something unique to you both.

That’s all fairly simple to understand, but where this larger story—the one our snapshot fits into—comes from isn’t as straightforward.

DIFFERENT LEVELS OF NARRATIVE

Typically, we each arrive at our individual conceptualisation of romantic love through three levels of narrative.

At the most macro or external level, we are all subject to our culture, or socially-shared narratives. If we think about love, for example, we’ve all had contact with the Romeo and Juliet trope, or Disney princesses, or the pull between duty and love that is represented in countless Hollywood movies. We have the role-modelling of our parents and all the other adults we observed as we grew up. For some, there was the church, or teachers, or others who helped us understand what good boys and girls (and then women and men) did and didn’t do, and what constituted a good and healthy relationship.

Then we have the stories we construct with our partners; the “we” narrative. Each romantic partnership has a unique we-narrative that is both shaped by and the shaper of the relationship. Some of it might be explicitly communicated and negotiated, but the bulk of it isn’t. It develops over time. Certain practices, such as the degree of expected physical affection, become episodes that become habits and expectations that make sense as part of some relationships and not others, because different people have different we-narratives.

And, at the most personal level, we have our own, unique, individual narrative. This is different from our socially-shared narratives in that it’s entirely built by us and us alone. All our past relationship experiences, for example, feed into our present relationship. We also bring our needs, our wants, our desires and our dreams. Everything that makes us who we are as individuals creates a lens that we see things through.

HOW D/S AFFECTS OUR LOVE STORIES

From this amalgamation, we get a personal interpretative framework that defines which actions, for each of us, count as loving. We understand what it is to be in love through the cultural and personal stories we enact.

If we take the we-narrative first, then it’s probably not influenced much by the type of dynamic we choose our relationship to be — whether it is vanilla or some flavour of authority or power exchange. That might make a difference to the actual narrative, but not how it is formed. The we-narrative comes from shared experiences with our partner.

The I-narrative, or unique individual narrative, is usually thought of as the biggest stumbling block in relationships. It can easily be the source of misunderstanding, tensions and disappointment – for example, when a partner expects more physical expression of love, or less, than you wish to give; or when a narrative clashes with a partner’s expectations of both romantic and emotional exclusivity. Where partners have narratives that produce very different expectations, disappointment and resentment are almost inevitable.

Again, these potential pitfalls exist regardless of the type of relationship dynamic we choose, but you’ll often hear it said about D/s relationships that, in a way, they “force” communication. In addition to all the personal aspects which we would bring to any relationship, they often include very specific sexual desires. In a way, we play a more complex game and that complexity is most successful when we hone our skills in communicating with our partner.

If we’ve been brought up in the same culture then we probably share a lot of the same cultural stories. They won’t be exactly the same, but there is probably a great deal of resemblance.

But cultural stories don’t always work as well for us if our relationship deviates from cultural norms. Polyamorous people see very little in the way of role models on TV or in film, for example. D/s relationships often transgress modern social norms that emphasise equality. And, sadomasochists can’t help but be aware that things they like to do are not the things they were taught “good boys and girls” did.

CO-AUTHORING OUR WE-NARRATIVE

Conventional (vanilla) relationships are not without their complexity, but they can often rely on fairly solid shared cultural and personal “we” narratives.

D/s relationships have uncertain cultural and personal I-narratives, which makes the we-narrative extra-important. We might not have the same roadmaps as conventional relationships, but we do have each other.

By recognising the degree to which overlapping and different narratives shape our expectations in love, we can use the tools we know are important — communication, negotiation, empathy, respect — to help us avoid potential pitfalls.

We also need to make sure that we are truly co-authoring our we-narratives. It’s a shared story and our partners are not just characters, they are our co-creators. Perhaps telling a story with another person is difficult, as each person has input into how it progresses. It might not always go smoothly, or the way you expected.

But, the only way to write a great story is going to be together… and that’s particularly the case for those or us who chose D/s dynamics.

Feature image: Pencil drawing by Arinze Stanley (Arinze), Lagos, Nigeria