Yet again, my highly specific sexual fetish has somehow become part of the zeitgeist. This is exactly the opposite of what a kink is supposed to be about! Why does this keep happening to me?!
The first time this happened, the year was 1994. I was merely a fresh-faced foot fetishist and I thought sucking on these little piggies was gonna be my kink forever. I was, like, really into toes. For real. I spent hours clipping feet out of People magazine, hoping that my next date would be open-minded. And when they weren’t, offering foot rubs to passersby on my shameful, sexy walk home.
Then Pulp Fiction came out. All of a sudden, every Tom, Dick, and Quentin had tootsie fever. Sure, I liked seeing Uma Thurman’s feet but knowing that everyone else did too made it seemed less special. Way less kinky. By the time Joss Whedon’s “Firefly” came around, feet did nothing for me anymore.
It happened again and again. I got really into latex, spending a fortune on baby powder to squeeze into highly erotic, yet completely non-breathable rubber fabric. Boom, The Matrix is released and now I feel less like “the one” and more like “the one selling used latex on Craigslist.”
Speaking of used underwear, next I got into used underwear. But then, oh hey OnlyFans, way to make my kink so accessible that it might as well be a Maxim magazine in a supermarket. Out of desperation, I even took a stab at being into people slowly, methodically, and sensually sitting on a sheet cake decorated for my birthday and smushing it into crumbs. And what happens? Some Tumblr thread goes viral and now I can’t even order a cake without getting side-eyed by some nosy baker.
Mainstream culture always tries to popularize the unique. Everything is catered to Mister and Missus Missionary Position, yet it never satisfies them. Every porno, erotic book, and piece of bathroom graffiti is geared to get them off, while it takes something dirty, forbidden, and most importantly obscure. It’s like appropriating kinks is the mainstream’s kink. Fuck. That’s hot.
Okay, fuck it. This time, I’m going to get into something so weird, specific, and potentially difficult to achieve that it has no chance of ever getting into the mainstream. It’s going to be so off-putting to the uninitiated that it might consume my life, sexuality, and friendships. If it ends up alienating everyone around me and becoming my defining feature, so be it.
I don’t know what it’s going to be yet, but I promise you this: it’s going to be hot. And probably involve bees.