I’m not sure what to do. I’ve had a fetish for straitjackets since I was 15. I’m now 35. I’ve only told two girlfriends about it–absolutely no one else. The last one went along with it just to please me; my current one wants no part of it. Problem is, I feel frustrated because whenever we have sex I have to fantasize about her wearing a straitjacket. When I was single the only way I could come when I jerked off was by fantasizing about girls/women in straitjackets. It feels like my fetish governs my sex life. What can I do to lessen my dependency on it? –Mr. Straitjacketed Tightly
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That said, MST, there is a way to lessen your dependence on this fetish. Unfortunately for your current girlfriend, it’s to indulge it on a semiregular basis. Your fetish dominates your erotic thoughts because in the last 20 years you’ve only been able to live out your fantasies with one partner. Now that you’re with someone who won’t indulge you at all, your fetish is so absent from your present sex life that desire and despair are combining to make it loom larger than it would if you got to fuck a woman in a straitjacket every once in a while.
If you just want to make him stop, SS, I suggest you empty a bottle of Tabasco into the bottle of ketchup in your fridge or squeeze a few tubes of BenGay into the mayonnaise–that will put a stop to his condiment abuse. Or you can be a man about it, SS, and tell him to go buy some actual lube or, if he’s a wet-and-messy fetishist, suggest that he buy himself some playtime-only condiments and keep ’em in a small fridge in his room.
I never heard of your column until I started a new job. I found out about it because every Wednesday, when the Village Voice comes out in New York, this creep I work with comes into the conference room at lunchtime, when the rest of us are eating, and reads us the disgusting letters you print from the perverts and degenerates that write to you. He asks us what our advice would be before he reads your filthy answers. If I were to speak my mind my answer would be that you and your readers should have your mouths washed out with soap, but I’m new to this job and don’t want to make a fuss. Sign me (as I’m sure you will appreciate, Mr. Acronym): –Doofus Intentionally Reads Terrible Blather at Group
