December 15, 2010

I am a 33-year-old married male who has a WAM—wet and messy—fetish. I’m into mud and clay. I have played with various substances in the bathroom by myself over the years. It always ends with me masturbating myself into oblivion, wishing there were someone with me so we could sensuously rub against each other, etc., until we both climax. But I’m always alone!

I was always too shy to share this fetish with anyone until three years ago, when I told the woman I’ve now been married to for two years. She assured me that I should never be ashamed of any of my fantasies and that she would be glad to help me fulfill them. But when I went and got some clay from the art store, showed it to her, and said that we were going to be having some fun, she acted uncomfortable. Once I got the bathtub full of the “mud,” got naked, and started to coax her into the room, she totally freaked out.

Needless to say, I was mortified and disappointed, and there was $50 worth of clay in the tub that I didn’t want to go to waste. So I locked her out and decided to try to make the best of it. This backfired because soon she was pounding on the door like she was jealous that I was in there pleasuring myself. I washed off, washed everything down the drain, and opened the door, but it was too late. She was angry and wouldn’t say anything the rest of the day. Neither of us has spoken of it since.

I still have my fantasies, but now I feel I have to hide them. I have magazines and videos that I masturbate to, but it goes no further than that. So my questions are:

1. Am I some kind of a freak or weirdo?

2. Have you ever heard of this fetish before?

3. If so, why doesn’t anyone else ever write to you about similar fetishes?

4. Will I ever be able to show this side of me to my wife, or should I just hide it from her forever?
Mis-Understood Dude

Let me get this straight: Three years ago you shared your fetish and fantasies with the woman you married two years ago, and your then non-wife assured you that she wanted to help you fulfill all of your fantasies—but she completely flipped out when you filled the tub with clay. And 12 months later, you married her anyway?

I’m not endorsing the way you sprang a tub full of clay on your future wife—maybe she reacted badly because the bathroom was an unholy mess? Maybe you should’ve stopped everything and talked things through when she acted uncomfortable? Maybe the sight of you half-covered in mud and fully aroused was too much, too soon?—but why on earth didn’t you get to the bottom of this before you married this woman?

Sounds to me like you really spooked the wife-to-be, MUD, both with that “Hey, here’s a tub full of clay!” move and then, when she balked, by going right ahead with one of your solo mud-and-sex sessions instead of putting your orgasm on hold to, gee, go and inquire after the future wife’s feelings about what just went down. At that moment, she may have concluded that given a choice between her and a tub full of clay, you would choose a tub full of clay—because that’s just what you did… and yet she married you anyway.

People are fucking mysteries, man.

And in answer to your questions…

1. Yes, but your kinky weirdo freakiness is charming and harmless and not anything that you need to feel ashamed of, MUD.

2. Yes, yours is a relatively common fetish, MUD, one that exists on a continuum. Wet-and-messy play can involve substances that are harmless and represent a low barrier to entry for the loving, GGG, nonfetishist partner—mud, food, condiments, etc.—or substances that are not at all harmless and represent an impossibly high barrier to entry, e.g., shit, vomit, snot. Your kink could be much, much more problematic.

3. Other people have. Yours isn’t the first letter I’ve run from/about a weirdo freak like you.

4. You already showed this side of yourself to the wife. She knows, you know she knows, but you’re both pretending not to know what you damn well do know. To avoid becoming completely sexually estranged, TALK TO YOUR WIFE. Ask her what went wrong—how did she go from “never be ashamed… glad to help [you fulfill your fantasies]” to freaking out and pounding on doors and ignoring the mud-caked elephant in the room for more than three years?

Ask her to open up—beg her to open up—and apologize to her out of the gate for botching it, for rushing her, for being so insensitive as to prioritize the clay over her feelings after she freaked. And then tell her you want to be able to work on building a healthy, honest, and mutually satisfying sexual relationship, one that meets your needs and hers, but to do that you’re going to have to start communicating with each other again.

Recently, I returned from an adult-industry convention, where I often pick up new toys. One of my gift bags contained a petite sparkly purple vibrator, and I thought, well it’s not my style but maybe I should give it to my daughter along with a lecture on masturbation being a great alternative to sex. Even though I am an open-minded and cool mom, this thought still made me uncomfortable, and I relegated the new toy to my nightstand full of gifted-from-vendors toys that aren’t my style.

I figured that no teenager wants to be given a masturbatory device by a parent. Was I wrong?
Teenage Masturbation Icky

No, TMI, you were right: No teenager wants to be given a masturbatory device by her parent. But that doesn’t mean a teenager—even your teenager—wouldn’t be delighted to have a masturbatory device. A moment of awkwardness and a little feigned teenage discomfort/disgust—perhaps even a show of discarding the device where it could be easily retrieved after Mom apologizes and retreats—is a price that most teenage girls would be willing to pay to have a brand-new sparkly purple vibrator of her very own. (Oh, and I’m thinking she knows about your drawer full of misfit sex toys. Maybe you could just tell her that anything in there that’s still in its original packaging is up for grabs.)

No man’s cock is cute—well, no man’s besides the man who got a Hello Kitty tattoo on the head. A cock can be hot, it can be beautiful, it can be vaguely threatening. But unless there’s something very, very wrong, no man’s cock is cute and no man wants to be told that his cock is cute.

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