Thursday, August 14, 2014

“I Don’t Get It”

It seems that the most frequent comment I see about balloon fetishes from people who don’t have one is: “I don’t get it.”

I don’t know why balloon fetishes are any harder to “get” than any other fetish, but that’s not really the point. The point is that we shouldn’t expect anyone to “get” our fetish, or indeed any fetish, if they don’t have it.

Okay, maybe someone with a good imagination, or another fetish, might be able to see how we might relate to balloons. But really understanding how we feel? How could they?

We don’t even get each other sometimes. It’s not just the poppers not getting the non-poppers, either. I don’t get how anyone can be turned on by watching someone mass pop balloons with a pin. It’s a total turn-off for me, a waste of balloons I could pop in more intimate ways, and a lot of noise for nothing. I can intellectually understand how this could be a turn-on for someone else, but it will never make sense to me on an emotional level.

I also don’t get other fetishes. I accept them, at least those where no one gets hurt and everyone consents. But I don’t connect with them emotionally.

So, any effort on the part of us, the actual balloon fetishists, to get people to understand our feelings, much less share them, is probably a waste of time. Oh, I know, I’m guilty of it myself to a certain extent. I try to explain for the curious in my blog, and I’ve even been known to correct some misapprehensions among Twitter folk, but only if I think they actually give a damn.

But it’s an impulse thing, really. When I write my stories, I write them for people who have a balloon fetish, and perhaps for people who love someone who has a balloon fetish, for entertainment, and also to portray balloon fetishists as real people who have a life and feelings outside the fetish.

And, to be honest, in the tradition of writing what one knows, I write stories that reflect my fetish. Even my non-popping story (only one, but there might be another coming up) involves feelings I have about balloons despite the fact that I get sexual pleasure (and no other pleasure, really) from popping them. I’m not sure if I will even attempt a story featuring someone who’s into pin popping, or cigarettes, or stomping on balloons. By the same token, I’m unlikely to write a story about homosexual balloons fetishists. I just don’t know enough about it to do it justice.

Because although I can observe people whose fetishism, or sexual orientation, is different from my own and be accepting, understanding, friendly, and even loving, the truth is that I just don’t get it.

And I can be perfectly comfortable with that. Maybe it’s time we all were.

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Fantasy Collides With Reality

Recently I noticed that the Slim Jim balloons, the lovely, 6-foot long balloons from Tilly, are back. I have always wanted to order a large package of these balloons, and I was really upset when they went off the market that I didn’t get the chance to have more than one or two to play with. I can get bags of 50 from or a wholesaler in Connecticut, and the price, for such unusual balloons, is not bad.

So why don’t I just jump on it and buy a bag? Because, frankly, although I’m very tempted to buy them, I don’t know what I would do with them. Balloons have three purposes in life. They can serve as decorations, as objects that I like to touch, or as sexual toys (preferably in contact with my lovely wife). Now I’m sure readers of this blog would have many suggestions of just what I might do with some big, long balloons, and I certainly have a few ideas myself. But the reality is that balloons this big would rarely get blown up in my house. They would sit around in a drawer for years.

Why? Well, for one because I am a wimp. Long balloons scare the crap out of me, and I have to get a lot of courage up to inflate them. Another problem is that I have no place to keep big balloons around, and I would really hate to pop a Slim Jim without having kept it around to play with for awhile. I even have trouble find a place to keep 16-inch rounds.

I do decorate with balloons, but I almost never get a chance to do that with anything larger than 11s, partly because I don’t have a lot of space, and partly because the smaller balloons don’t make my wife feel like I’m exposing my fetish to the kids if they happen to come into the bedroom while the balloons are hung up. Anything 6-feet long wouldn’t go over well.

And my sexual fantasies with them? Probably, if I’m being honest with myself, nothing that my wife would feel comfortable with.

It’s not the first time I’ve had this problem. I have a few 36-inch balloons in a drawer that may be too old to trust, but they’re there because I have some very specific fantasies involving those as well, and I have never had the chance to fulfill them. And even if I did, I’d have to pop the balloon soon afterward, because I definitely don’t have a place to keep something like that.

Perhaps someday, when the kids are grown and on their own, I’ll have a little more flexibility with big balloons. My wife and I do talk about it from time to time, and she seem amenable. For now, though, I probably have no use for bag of Slim Jims.

But, in truth, that doesn’t guarantee that I won’t buy them anyway.

Monday, August 4, 2014

A Real Writer

Okay, let me start out by saying that no one has ever said that, since I write fetish fiction, I can’t be a “real writer.” In fact, readers have complimented me on my style, and not just the balloon fetish content of my stories.

On the other hand, I’ve never had anyone interview me the way they do other writers. I’ve been contacted by people who want me to give an interview (which I’m happy to do by email), but they always want to interview me about balloon fetishes. I never get asked the standard writing questions, like “Where do you come up with your ideas?” or “How do you develop your characters?” or even “Do you write in your pajamas?”

Which is a shame because I do all of those things. Well, except writing in my pajamas. I don’t sit in front of the computer thinking, “Okay, how am I going to do the next sex scene?” I think about my characters and the situation they’re in, as it relates to their balloon fetish (or the fetish of one of the other characters), and I try to figure out how they would react, and how their feeling about balloons (but not just balloons) influences what they say and do. And, yes, even how they have sex with balloons.

And, sure, a very large part of the purpose of the story is to titillate readers who get sexually excited by balloons. But I think my readers also like to see themselves portrayed as real people with real lives to live outside of their balloon activities, and fairly run-of-the mill people at that, which you can’t usually get away with in fiction. But the balloon fetish offers the quirk—or flaw if you insist—that makes the character more interesting, at least for the intended audience.

Now, I know about this because I am a real writer; I don’t just write fetish fiction, I write other kinds of fiction under my real name, and non-fiction as well. I choose to separate my balloon fetish writing from all my other writing, not entirely out of embarrassment (although my family would be unhappy if I were too public about it), but so that the fetish fiction doesn’t influence readers’ opinions about my other writing.

So, I have chosen to put my alter-ego in a corner, trapped by his niche, not really so surprised that no one treats him like a "real writer."

But still hoping.