So, have you ever dated anyone with a fetish? I’m not talking about an “I think you have cute feet” type of thing, I’m talking about the kind of thing that when you are making love YOU are the third person in the room.
Milton had a fetish, and he was the very last guy on the planet that you would suspect of having non-traditional sexual preferences. He was as geeky and straight-laced as they come, although I’d like to think that our 2+ year relationship mellowed him out some. It certainly taught me a lot. At the top of the list of things that I learned was that sexuality is very individual, and very, very weird.
Milton’s fetish was fat. He loved fat women, he wanted to be fat himself (he wasn’t), and he was aroused by talking about weight gain, fat, and overeating. His ultimate fantasy was being grossly, debilitatingly fat and having sex with a woman so fat that she couldn’t move under her own power.
He kept this mostly to himself, not so much because he thought it was wrong, but because he knew how others would judge him. But of course as his girlfriend, I was very aware of it. I didn’t like it. It grossed me out. It brought up a lot of body image self-consciousness. It was the opposite of a turn-on for me. But I tried very hard to accept it. He couldn’t help it… it was literally the way he was wired sexually. And this experience gave me a very healthy respect for the immutable nature of sexuality. Milton had a thing for fat the way that gay people are gay. I couldn’t ask him to stop. He knew I hated it. But it was not going to change, and that was part of the full package of being with Milton.
I didn’t know about Milton’s fetish when we started dating. He was a virgin when he met me (although he lied and said he wasn’t, possibly the only thing he lied about in the 2+ years we dated), and I don’t even think he knew the extent of his fetish. Over the course of the relationship, my tolerance waned. Even as I came to understand fully that he couldn’t be any different, I resented it. Before we broke up, I came to dread sleeping with Milton and would avoid it as much as possible. At the same time I felt guilty for not being able to get over my hang-ups. NOT a fun time in the bedroom for either of us.
This tension crept over into the rest of our relationship, or perhaps that was deteriorating on its own as well. I was getting ready to move on from a stagnant period in my life professionally and do some house cleaning personally as well. Milton was in it for the long haul… he wanted to be with me no matter what. As awful as our sex life had become, (for me, I still don’t even think he knows quite how miserable I was!) it was still agonizing for me to break up with him and move across the country.
I suspect that few people get to experience the kind of relationship that we were fortunate enough to have, outside the bedroom. He was 100% loyal and devoted to me. He truly loved me. He respected me and thought I was wonderful. We talked about everything and really cared what the other person thought. We never fought because we could discuss things and work it out. We could always make each other laugh. We were both thoughtful, introspective, positive, caring, curious people.
So lest you wonder why I stayed so long… there was a lot of baby in that bathwater. I may never find his equal.
(The story continues… read more about Milton in The Houseguest: Milton Reprised)
~ Sex Kitten (with claws)