Friday, February 28, 2003

My fetish

I was reading that free weekly type thing you get in most major cities. And there was this column...a sex advice column. It actually mentioned the 'magic wand for Katie' controversy. The link I posted on my site. Ya know? The girl? Who wrote about her smurf fantasy from childhood and then was promised this Hitachi magic wand but didn't get it and started this whole site about the magic wand, etc?

OK, you don't remember. The internet has a short memory. It seemed exciting to many at the time. Anyway, Katie has been awarded her magic wand by the Supreme Court...of sex toys. The guy who writes the column whose name I cannot recall--oh yea, Dan Savage? Don Savage? said a few insulting things about her but I can't recall what those were.

Anyway...people write in about their fetishes. And then they ask questions. They are dumb questions. I take it there are real limits on what kind of questions you can ask about fetishes. 1. Am I normal? 2. How do I get wife/husband/boyfriend/girlfriend/total stranger to do this thing with me? 3. What's my fetish called? Do others have it? 4. How do I find others with my special fetish?

I'm pretty sure that is about all you can really say about fetishes. However, this man's column must have lasted a while because the magic wand for Katie problem started a while ago. Apparently, there is an interest.

I found the fetishes somewhat--icky. I'm sure the people who try them are not icky. In fact, I have my own voyeur side. I think I've written about my sexually adventurous friends and my fascination with the things they will do.

One of my favorite stories was--back in the early days of internet sex--the whole writing sexual things to strangers on the internet (I guess people still do this but it doesn't seem as surprising as it once did) my friend was doing some kind of S/M online. He got this guy to put on a hood and lock the hood. But then the problem is that the guy lost the key. He felt really bad for the guy. I said: "I guess you couldn't help him find the key but did you at least stay on line and keep him company while he was trapped in that hood?"

Unfortunately not. He had to log off and go do some stuff. He'll never know what happened and how his internet friend got out of the locked hood.

I remember how shocked and even somewhat appalled I was that people would engage in such personal contact/revelation over the internet. And look at me now.

Too boring to analyze.

Anyway, as I was reading this column about fetishes I started to feel bad. I don't have a fetish. I don't have anything even resembling a fetish. As a rather imaginative person I certainly have been able to put myself in the place of those who do and enjoy their enjoyment at times. When it wasn't too icky. I guess that's the side-effect of growing up Catholic--all sex seems pretty wild and dirty and so you don't even bother to have fetishes.

I started to feel bad though--having a fetish is all the rage. It makes you special, it makes you different...It seems to be a crucial part of modern life. So I searched my mind for some kind of fetish--something that could make me unique. A secret--a deep secret. I couldn't find one. However, I did realize that I often daydream about this scenario: I go into a room. There is a table in the room. I take my clothes off. A person comes in. I prefer her to be a woman. Youngish healthy fresh kind of women seem to be better at it. The woman puts some oil or cream on her hands. She kneads my back. My eyes are closed. We don't speak. I am putty in her hands. Oh, yeah... She pushes hard on those muscles surrounding my spinal cord. She....massages my back, my legs, my arms. For a whole hour. Sometimes the oil she uses has the scent of rosemary or lavendar. Then it's over. I say thanks. She leaves the room. She always says: "Take your time getting up." I lie there for a little while...I get up. I put my clothes on. I leave.

I would pay $50 an hour for someone to do this to me. I'd go up to $65 an hour. Oh man...sometimes it's all I can think about.

OK, I'm going to confess. I did that today. I paid this woman to do that kinky oil on the back, pushing on the muscles thing. (She wasn't youngish and fresh faced. She was middle aged and fresh faced.)

Then I took a hot tub. With a lot of other naked girls. Some of them had truly incredible breasts and did stretching exercises--naked. Right next to me. In the sauna.

But that's another story.


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