“To thine own self be true.”—One old English Guy (yes, I know Shakespeare!)
Today, I made a comment on someone else’s blog (who I graciously respect for his intelligence and honesty) to the effect of “the simple word ‘fetish’ bring people to a point of pain in the docs office trying to figure [it] out, but does it really matter?” He quickly let me know that it did matter because we live in society and had to interface with our loved ones who may make us feel dirty/cheap/worthless for our fetishes. I started to respond on his blog, but as I had taken up so much space there already, I decided to come home to rant.
First, when I say fetish…I want to make completely clear again that I am not talking about sexual deviated behaviors like “autoerotic asphyxiation.” I want to be clear on this point. If your sexual pleasures are derived from putting your life or someone else’s in danger, then get help immediately. However, what I would like to do here is clear the good name of “Fetish” as the seeking of pleasure in ways that satisfies something deep within us and make us enjoy the world a little more. Does it matter if it is shoes or latex or piercings? Not really…what matters is when we engage in the activity, mentally or physically, for whatever reason, it strikes our sexuality into motion and brings a hummm to our bodies. It lights a fire so deep that engaging makes the world ignite into more brillant colors.
If we only ever practiced the sexual pleasures that society approved of, then the concept of sex for procreation only (getting dizzy from the Catholic school teachings!) would have killed everyone’s sex drive centuries ago. Such dogmas and mores never keep people from practicing their own version of sex or religion (we all believe in our own version of God….and what is acceptable within our beliefs). Why would we run off to an analysts to examine why we are drawn to tight corsets, a pair of handcuffs with a pretty leather crop, a vibrating cock ring, or a pair of studded high heels…the point is that we are feeding into our sexuality at our very basic level and using it to make contact with the world in ways that are sexual, sensual, and primal.
If you are saying to me now….yes, but you have people in your life that accept who you are….you are lucky. Nope….not luck at all. Think that The Marine believed that the little girl he dated and married after high school would grow up to become a porn queen? Not likely (he might have hoped….giggle). But I pick these people to be in my life. They accept what I am or they leave. No one has the right to even attempt to make me feel like I am dirty, cheap, or worthless for anything that I do. Much less for my sexual choices. I accept fetishes as a choice….much as I would accept homosexuality, bisexuality, or heterosexuality. (Yes, heterosexuality is a choice too….being mainstream does not make it any less of a choice.)
For so many reasons, I have been stereotyped and confused with someone who gives a damn about the opinions of people who tell me I am an “aberration before God.” Geezz…I have heard that before. But, I can assure all that God and I….we are just fine. Sometimes, I am quite sure he is up there laughing at me and shaking his head at my antics, but we are tight because He accepts who I am. And, I surround myself with people who do the same. I believe that each person loves the rebellious part of me that would rather live true to myself than conformed into silence.
It occurred to me later why it was so important for me to address this issue. While a man corrected me based on fetishes being unaccepted by sexual partners and society, this is what women who accept their sexuality are dealing with now. A man might not understand the importance of saying….this is who I am sexually…in a mainstream setting because men do not usually have to make that statement. Until they address non-mainstream activities, like fetishes or homosexual behaviors, they don’t have to defend their right to stand up (pun intended) in society to say….sexually…this is it. Women are making this sexual transition now and it can be quite painful.
BTW….on a side note….Pink Pussy….dear heart….the turkey baster is for your own personal pleasure. A special gift of girly love from me to you! We’ll have a house party and show you how to use it! ~~Dee