At the beginning of this year, I wrote a post about the balloons I enjoyed when I was young. In it, I made two statements that I now know to be incorrect. And I'm delighted.
The first was that Qualatex no longer makes 9-inch balloons. I thought so because I couldn't find them in Pioneer's current catalog. But I did find them from my supplier, BalloonsFAST, and they are fresh stock. So, if you like smaller balloons, that's one place to find them.
The other statement I made is, "If I had a bag of Qualatex 9s, I'm not sure I would really enjoy them that much." Well, I couldn't resist. Along with my annual purchase of balloons for decorating and fun, I ordered my fondly-remembered 9s, a bag of standard colors, just like I remember.
It took a while before I had the house to myself, but when I did, I put on a pair of sleep pants and a T-shirt, blew up more than a dozen of the small balloons, which goes a lot faster than it does with 11s, and stuffed my pants and my shirt full.
And it felt wonderful. It was the same friendly feeling that I had all along, my lovely balloons pressed against my skin. I lay down on them and savored the feeling and being pressed so tightly against them, an act that I would not have dared as a child, and only figured out was safe as a young adult.
Of course, if one of them popped now, I would be startled, but I would also probably have enjoyed it.
As it happened, none popped by accident. It was just an hour or so of sensual pleasure. But, much to my surprise, it did not excite me sexually, at all.
And when I noticed that, I remembered that, as a young adult, when I would wear balloons around my apartment just to enjoy the feeling, it was the same way. The sexual pleasures were usually separate, and the only sexual feeling I had in regards to stuffing balloons in clothing were when I would imagine women doing it, or (very rarely) actually get to watch a woman do it.
I hadn't worn balloon in my clothing this way since early in my marriage, not since I had children. But it won't be the last time. And popping the balloons after was definitely a sexual delight. So I got the best of both worlds.
So I guess, in some ways, you can go back again.
Showing posts with label fetishism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fetishism. Show all posts
Friday, November 18, 2016
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
Old Balloons
Yesterday I took down the balloons I'd had hanging from the ceiling for more than a month. My wife and I played with them for awhile, and then I popped them. And it reminded me of something: I don't really like old balloons.
Well, okay, it depends on the context. I don't like oxidized balloons at all, though I know some globophiles do (in fact, some like them best that way). But that wasn't the problem with these; this time of year, I can leave them up for months, until spring in fact, and they will stay relatively shiny and pretty, without that oxidized latex odor (which I don't care for, and my wife really hates).
There were two problems with these. They weren't very elastic. Lots of give, but not very good at returning to their shape after some squeezing (and I do a lot of squeezing). And they feel more, I don't know, plastic than newly-inflated balloons. The other problem is that, even though they don't feel sticky, and don't stick to my skin or the covers, they tend to stick to each other. A lot. To the point where sometimes (not this time, happy to say) they pop when pulled apart.
It's a bit of a conundrum. I like to have balloons around for a good long time. I don't get enough chances for play to replace them, say, every week (boy, talk about a pipe dream). But, on the other hand, I cannot bring myself to just pop my old balloons without playing with them first. It's just too wasteful, even if I have enjoyed them visually for a good long time.
So what's the solution? There probably isn't one. If I had to choose between the pleasure of being able to see pretty balloons hanging on the ceiling whenever I walk into my room and the pleasure of having every balloon be perfect for play, I'll hang up the balloons and deal with the minor dissatisfaction when I take them down.
It seems that even something that should be as simple as enjoying balloons comes with its trade-offs.
Well, okay, it depends on the context. I don't like oxidized balloons at all, though I know some globophiles do (in fact, some like them best that way). But that wasn't the problem with these; this time of year, I can leave them up for months, until spring in fact, and they will stay relatively shiny and pretty, without that oxidized latex odor (which I don't care for, and my wife really hates).
There were two problems with these. They weren't very elastic. Lots of give, but not very good at returning to their shape after some squeezing (and I do a lot of squeezing). And they feel more, I don't know, plastic than newly-inflated balloons. The other problem is that, even though they don't feel sticky, and don't stick to my skin or the covers, they tend to stick to each other. A lot. To the point where sometimes (not this time, happy to say) they pop when pulled apart.
It's a bit of a conundrum. I like to have balloons around for a good long time. I don't get enough chances for play to replace them, say, every week (boy, talk about a pipe dream). But, on the other hand, I cannot bring myself to just pop my old balloons without playing with them first. It's just too wasteful, even if I have enjoyed them visually for a good long time.
So what's the solution? There probably isn't one. If I had to choose between the pleasure of being able to see pretty balloons hanging on the ceiling whenever I walk into my room and the pleasure of having every balloon be perfect for play, I'll hang up the balloons and deal with the minor dissatisfaction when I take them down.
It seems that even something that should be as simple as enjoying balloons comes with its trade-offs.
Wednesday, April 8, 2015
What Turns You On?
For a balloon fetishist, it sounds like a simple question: "What turns you on?" And of course, the simplest answer is, "balloons." Beyond that, though, the answer is anything but simple.
In my case, for example, I like popping. Not just popping, but I do like popping. But not just any kind of popping. Pins, fire, fingernails, and knives just don't do it for me, although I know that all of those are a tremendous turn-on for someone else. I didn't even get turned on by popping until I was in my teens, long after I first started having sexual feelings for balloons.
And then it was only because some girl I had the hots for told me she liked to sit on them. I thought about her quite lovely ass pressed so hard against a balloon that it made it pop, and I began to see popping in an entirely different light.
So now, when it comes to popping, it's all about intimate contact. I've always enjoyed intimate contact with balloons. I like to pop balloon by sitting on them or lying on them. But that's nothing compared to how much I like to watch pretty ladies sit on balloons, or hug them to their breasts. Or blow them to bursting (though, frankly, I'm not sure why). And I don't like it when they cheat with their fingernails.
It turns out that I've very selective about what makes popping balloons arousing. It has to be done a certain way, or it doesn't turn me on at all. And if I see, for example, a video of a lovely lady bouncing on a balloon, even though I do plenty of non-popping play myself, I've very disappointed if the balloon doesn't pop.
Unless the lovely lady is my wife. See, it's complicated. My wife doesn't like to pop balloons at all. She has done it for me, on occasion, but she doesn't like it one little bit. She doesn't mind my fetish, as long as it doesn't take over our sex life, and she'll let me talk about popping balloons, but she does not like to do it herself.
Big disappointment, right? Well, not so much. Because, if I were to choose, between watching any other woman pop balloons in precisely the ways that turn me on most, and watching my wife play with balloons without any popping involved, which is a bigger turn-on, I'd choose my wife every time.
Because what really turns me on is the combination of the woman and the balloons, and no woman ever has turned me on as much as my wife. So the real answer to the question "What turns you on?" to me is, "My wife."
And, oh yeah, if she plays with balloons, that's icing on the cake.
In my case, for example, I like popping. Not just popping, but I do like popping. But not just any kind of popping. Pins, fire, fingernails, and knives just don't do it for me, although I know that all of those are a tremendous turn-on for someone else. I didn't even get turned on by popping until I was in my teens, long after I first started having sexual feelings for balloons.
And then it was only because some girl I had the hots for told me she liked to sit on them. I thought about her quite lovely ass pressed so hard against a balloon that it made it pop, and I began to see popping in an entirely different light.
So now, when it comes to popping, it's all about intimate contact. I've always enjoyed intimate contact with balloons. I like to pop balloon by sitting on them or lying on them. But that's nothing compared to how much I like to watch pretty ladies sit on balloons, or hug them to their breasts. Or blow them to bursting (though, frankly, I'm not sure why). And I don't like it when they cheat with their fingernails.
It turns out that I've very selective about what makes popping balloons arousing. It has to be done a certain way, or it doesn't turn me on at all. And if I see, for example, a video of a lovely lady bouncing on a balloon, even though I do plenty of non-popping play myself, I've very disappointed if the balloon doesn't pop.
Unless the lovely lady is my wife. See, it's complicated. My wife doesn't like to pop balloons at all. She has done it for me, on occasion, but she doesn't like it one little bit. She doesn't mind my fetish, as long as it doesn't take over our sex life, and she'll let me talk about popping balloons, but she does not like to do it herself.
Big disappointment, right? Well, not so much. Because, if I were to choose, between watching any other woman pop balloons in precisely the ways that turn me on most, and watching my wife play with balloons without any popping involved, which is a bigger turn-on, I'd choose my wife every time.
Because what really turns me on is the combination of the woman and the balloons, and no woman ever has turned me on as much as my wife. So the real answer to the question "What turns you on?" to me is, "My wife."
And, oh yeah, if she plays with balloons, that's icing on the cake.
Monday, December 1, 2014
Give and Take
If you’ve been following me for any length of time, you know that I’m married to a woman who does not share my sexual interest in balloons. I am very lucky, because she not only accepts my fetish as part of who I am (and thus part of why she fell in love with me in the first place), but that she will, within certain limits, indulge my fetish from time to time. She’ll also lets me share fantasies with her that she would never play out in real life, and that’s almost as good as indulging me in fact.
But it’s not a free-for-all. It can’t be. My wife has her own needs and desires, among them the need to be loved for herself and not because of what she is willing to do with balloons to satisfy me. It’s not easy to strike a balance between her needs and mine, and it’s not as simple as adding up the numbers, half the sex involving balloons and half of it not. My wife needs and deserves to know that making love to her is all about how she makes me feel, all by herself, without any help from my nearly-lifelong fetish. She needs to know that I am excited by the sight of her, and the way she touches me, and the way I feel when I touch her.
That’s why balloons are only involved in a small percentage of our sexual encounters. This is not a source of frustration for me; I love me wife and I love making love to her, and I don’t feel that anything is missing if there are no balloons in the bedroom. True that there are some things I wish she could do for me. And she tries, and even gets pretty far outside her comfort zone sometimes. And for that I love her even more. But I can only push so far, and I value my marriage too much to push any further.
You see, a fetish can be very powerful. Its seeds usually go back beyond our earliest memories, and so it has been part of our lives, including our sexual feelings, for much longer than we have known our partner. That can be threatening to a relationship. If too many sexual encounters involve the fetish, how does your partner know whether you’re excited by him or her, or only by the object of your fetish?
That’s why communication is so important. You have to give permission, in so many words if necessary, for your partner to say “enough,” that the fetish has been taking over and needs a break. And you have to be willing to honor that, to reconnect with the one you love, one-to-one, without your “other lover” in the room.
Would I give up my balloons if my wife asked me to? That’s a tough one. I don’t think I could ever feel differently about them. But if she wanted to ban them from the bedroom, I think I’d have to say yes, I would. Fortunately, I see no signs of that happening, and after over a quarter-century of marriage we’ve worked it out pretty well.
But it didn’t just happen; we made it turn out this way. Together.
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.
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.
Thursday, May 29, 2014
From Kink to Fetish to the DSM
What is the difference between a kink and a fetish? And are either of them anything to worry about?
I often see postings on Internet sites about people who are "experimenting" with a balloon fetish, or just "getting into it." And I think they're using the term in too broad a sense. Now, I'm not going to get into a fight over semantics, but I think the difference is worth noting. If you are experimenting with a sexual variation, like sexual activity with balloons, for example, I don't think you are participating in a fetish; I think you are trying out a kink.
It's something you are deciding to do, something you want to try out. It's not something that you feel compelled by some inner feeling to do, and most likely if you decided to give it up tomorrow, you could do so without any difficulty.
This applies to any kinky sex you might decided to experiment with, not just balloons, but since this is a blog about balloons and sex, we'll stick to that topic.
And as kinks go, I think balloon play is probably a pretty good one. It's harmless, with a low risk of injury. Balloons are fun, sensual, and yet in some ways kind of scary, though in a superficial sense. That is, the balloons won't really hurt you, but popping them might give some enough adrenaline rush to provide some extra stimulation.
I wouldn't know. I can't see balloons the way others do without it being influenced by my very real fetish, something I did not choose, feelings that just happened to me along the way, starting very early in my life. They are ingrained in me, and I can't just decide that I don't want to be turned on by them (or afraid of them or emotionally attached to them) and change my feelings overnight.
If I did want to make such a change (and I don't), it would be a long battle, and I truthfully believe that some vestige of those feelings would just never go away. And that, in my opinion, is the difference between a fetish and a kink.
That and the fact that I am convinced that not all fetishes are sexual, whereas all kinks are, by their nature. There's nothing wrong with that; I have nothing against kinky sex or experimentation as long as no one gets hurt, but I do care about the difference, personally.
Now, what about the second question: is kinky sex or fetishism anything to worry about?
I once had a commenter on Twitter tell me I need to see a psychiatrist. I was tempted to reply: "I don't think you'd agree with what the psychiatrist had to say." (I resisted the temptation.) Because according to the latest Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM-V), which is what the psychiatric profession uses as a guide, fetishism in itself is not any kind of disorder.
There is something called fetishistic disorder, but that only comes into play if the fetish interferes with the subject's daily life. I wouldn't qualify. It's true, I do sometimes get very anxious when I'm around balloons in public, but that has little to do with my fetish and everything to do with my phobia.
So, whether you're doing balloons as a lark, or you're in it for the long haul through no choice of your own, there's nothing to be concerned about.
As long as nobody gets hurt.
NOTE: If you arrived here from Wikipedia, you should know that citing my blog as a source for what DSM has to say is a bit misleading to say the least. To see my opinion about that, click here.
I often see postings on Internet sites about people who are "experimenting" with a balloon fetish, or just "getting into it." And I think they're using the term in too broad a sense. Now, I'm not going to get into a fight over semantics, but I think the difference is worth noting. If you are experimenting with a sexual variation, like sexual activity with balloons, for example, I don't think you are participating in a fetish; I think you are trying out a kink.
It's something you are deciding to do, something you want to try out. It's not something that you feel compelled by some inner feeling to do, and most likely if you decided to give it up tomorrow, you could do so without any difficulty.
This applies to any kinky sex you might decided to experiment with, not just balloons, but since this is a blog about balloons and sex, we'll stick to that topic.
And as kinks go, I think balloon play is probably a pretty good one. It's harmless, with a low risk of injury. Balloons are fun, sensual, and yet in some ways kind of scary, though in a superficial sense. That is, the balloons won't really hurt you, but popping them might give some enough adrenaline rush to provide some extra stimulation.
I wouldn't know. I can't see balloons the way others do without it being influenced by my very real fetish, something I did not choose, feelings that just happened to me along the way, starting very early in my life. They are ingrained in me, and I can't just decide that I don't want to be turned on by them (or afraid of them or emotionally attached to them) and change my feelings overnight.
If I did want to make such a change (and I don't), it would be a long battle, and I truthfully believe that some vestige of those feelings would just never go away. And that, in my opinion, is the difference between a fetish and a kink.
That and the fact that I am convinced that not all fetishes are sexual, whereas all kinks are, by their nature. There's nothing wrong with that; I have nothing against kinky sex or experimentation as long as no one gets hurt, but I do care about the difference, personally.
Now, what about the second question: is kinky sex or fetishism anything to worry about?
I once had a commenter on Twitter tell me I need to see a psychiatrist. I was tempted to reply: "I don't think you'd agree with what the psychiatrist had to say." (I resisted the temptation.) Because according to the latest Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM-V), which is what the psychiatric profession uses as a guide, fetishism in itself is not any kind of disorder.
There is something called fetishistic disorder, but that only comes into play if the fetish interferes with the subject's daily life. I wouldn't qualify. It's true, I do sometimes get very anxious when I'm around balloons in public, but that has little to do with my fetish and everything to do with my phobia.
So, whether you're doing balloons as a lark, or you're in it for the long haul through no choice of your own, there's nothing to be concerned about.
As long as nobody gets hurt.
NOTE: If you arrived here from Wikipedia, you should know that citing my blog as a source for what DSM has to say is a bit misleading to say the least. To see my opinion about that, click here.
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
Fetishist From Birth?
After my last entry, someone on Facebook was discussing the post, and talked about being "born with the fetish." And I asked, as an aside, "Do you think we're born with the fetish?" Because I don't actually think that's true. I think that, even for true fetishists (a subject my predecessor touched on a couple of years ago), there is an event, before our earliest memories, that triggered some reaction to balloons that became an attachment to balloons which became, for most of us, a sexual connection to balloons, of some stripe.
But I could be completely wrong.
Anyone who claims to know how fetishes occur is blowing smoke into your balloon. Because, for us who truly have the fetish, our reaction to balloons was never something we chose. It was a reaction to something that happened to us; exactly what we have no way of knowing because most likely it happened in that time before we were four while we were forming memories that, for whatever reason, don't stay with us.
But born with it? Well, of course, there's no gene or birth trauma that makes us have a particular fetish. We're not born to love balloons, specifically. But maybe, just maybe, we're born to have this kind of attachment. After all, there are a lot of fetishists in the world, if you count all the fetishes that there are. Maybe there is a rather large subset of the populace is predisposed to have an emotional and/or sexual attachment to some object or another, with the particulars of which object falling to the whims of circumstance.
I don't know. And I don't think anyone else does either. My inclination is that fetishism is more likely an awakening of propensities that almost all of us share, but some incident or series of incidents turns the attachment process on its head and sends us in an unusual direction (and, as I said, not all that unusual for fetishism as a whole).
Not necessarily a bad direction, either. Sometimes my life would be simpler if I didn't have a fetish for balloons. But for the most part the balloons not only bring me sexual excitement, but comfort and happiness as well. It would only be a problem if my fetish interfered with living a full and satisfying life. And frankly, if that was the case, it probably wouldn't be just the fetish that was the issue.
So, while I cannot say with any confidence why I feel as I do about balloons, I'm quite happy with the way it turned out.
But I could be completely wrong.
Anyone who claims to know how fetishes occur is blowing smoke into your balloon. Because, for us who truly have the fetish, our reaction to balloons was never something we chose. It was a reaction to something that happened to us; exactly what we have no way of knowing because most likely it happened in that time before we were four while we were forming memories that, for whatever reason, don't stay with us.
But born with it? Well, of course, there's no gene or birth trauma that makes us have a particular fetish. We're not born to love balloons, specifically. But maybe, just maybe, we're born to have this kind of attachment. After all, there are a lot of fetishists in the world, if you count all the fetishes that there are. Maybe there is a rather large subset of the populace is predisposed to have an emotional and/or sexual attachment to some object or another, with the particulars of which object falling to the whims of circumstance.
I don't know. And I don't think anyone else does either. My inclination is that fetishism is more likely an awakening of propensities that almost all of us share, but some incident or series of incidents turns the attachment process on its head and sends us in an unusual direction (and, as I said, not all that unusual for fetishism as a whole).
Not necessarily a bad direction, either. Sometimes my life would be simpler if I didn't have a fetish for balloons. But for the most part the balloons not only bring me sexual excitement, but comfort and happiness as well. It would only be a problem if my fetish interfered with living a full and satisfying life. And frankly, if that was the case, it probably wouldn't be just the fetish that was the issue.
So, while I cannot say with any confidence why I feel as I do about balloons, I'm quite happy with the way it turned out.
Monday, April 28, 2014
It's Not All About Sex
If you do nothing but skim the surface, balloon fetishes seem pretty simple. Some guy or gal blows up a balloon until it pops and gets horny. Or does the nasty with a balloon or watches someone else play with a balloon.
And I guess for some balloon fetishists, it really is that simple: the balloon is an object that stimulates or enhances their sexual desire. There's a lot of variety within that description, of course, but it does cut to the chase. I think that my character in Popping Out meets that description pretty well, and maybe even the guy in Eric's Secret.
But for me, and I suspect a lot of us, it isn't nearly so cut and dried. I had a non-sexual relationship with balloons for at least eight years before they began to relate to sexual feelings at all. I will never understand how it started, around the age of three. I do know that I was deathly afraid of balloons popping, and that I felt a sense of loss when they were destroyed. I do know that I loved having balloons around whenever my parents would let me.
And for some reason that I do not understand, I loved having balloons stuffed into my pajamas. Aha, you say, a sexual relationship after all. No, not at all. A sensual relationship, maybe. It just felt good, like a stuffed animal or a particularly warm and fuzzy blanket. I just loved balloons. Even as I was afraid of them.
The sexual feeling for balloons came later, with puberty. Oh, there was probably some anticipation of that transformation earlier. After all, I was a boy, and things that get held against a boy's penis, especially with any amount of pressure, tend to cause an erection.
That's not necessarily a sexual response, mind you; often it's just the body protecting a vital reproductive organ from loss of blood flow. But your mind treats protective erections and erections from sexual arousal pretty much identically, and so the connection was made.
But discovering my sexual feelings for balloons did not take away the non-sexual feelings, and even decades later, as a middle-aged man, balloons in various circumstances can bring on waves of varied—and sometimes conflicting—emotional and even visceral responses.
I still love just having balloons around. At a former job, I decorated my office with them (we were in the entertainment business—such quirks were tolerated). Now I decorate my house with them in the winter. They oxidize in the summer, and I don't like oxidized balloons, even though when I was little, I kept them until they were oxidized and nearly flat. See? It's complicated.
I still like to cuddle with balloons, although I don't get much opportunity these days. Some of the cuddling leads to sexual activity, but a surprising amount of it does not.
And where popping balloons is concerned, things get even more complicated. I pop balloons now, something I never, ever did until I was in my teens. I can even do it without earplugs, in most circumstances.
But when I'm around someone else who has a balloon, I get a sudden flight response, and I want to get away as quickly as possible. I don't like being around popping balloons if I'm not in control of the situation.
And yet, watching a lovely lady do something that might pop a balloon is sexually arousing for me. So there's where the conflicting feeling come in. I really want to get away from the balloon, and I really want to stick around and watch the lovely lady pop the balloon.
Provided she's popping it the right way. If she's going after balloons with a pin, forget it, I'll run away as fast as I can. If she's sitting on it, I'll stay. If she's blowing it up until it pops...well, I don't know what I'll do because it scares the crap out of me and it turns me on. Conflicted!
I'm sure that there are a lot of stories out there just like mine—not in the details, you understand, but in the general sense that their feelings for balloons are not simply sexual.
Not, in fact, anything simple at all.
And I guess for some balloon fetishists, it really is that simple: the balloon is an object that stimulates or enhances their sexual desire. There's a lot of variety within that description, of course, but it does cut to the chase. I think that my character in Popping Out meets that description pretty well, and maybe even the guy in Eric's Secret.
But for me, and I suspect a lot of us, it isn't nearly so cut and dried. I had a non-sexual relationship with balloons for at least eight years before they began to relate to sexual feelings at all. I will never understand how it started, around the age of three. I do know that I was deathly afraid of balloons popping, and that I felt a sense of loss when they were destroyed. I do know that I loved having balloons around whenever my parents would let me.
And for some reason that I do not understand, I loved having balloons stuffed into my pajamas. Aha, you say, a sexual relationship after all. No, not at all. A sensual relationship, maybe. It just felt good, like a stuffed animal or a particularly warm and fuzzy blanket. I just loved balloons. Even as I was afraid of them.
The sexual feeling for balloons came later, with puberty. Oh, there was probably some anticipation of that transformation earlier. After all, I was a boy, and things that get held against a boy's penis, especially with any amount of pressure, tend to cause an erection.
That's not necessarily a sexual response, mind you; often it's just the body protecting a vital reproductive organ from loss of blood flow. But your mind treats protective erections and erections from sexual arousal pretty much identically, and so the connection was made.
But discovering my sexual feelings for balloons did not take away the non-sexual feelings, and even decades later, as a middle-aged man, balloons in various circumstances can bring on waves of varied—and sometimes conflicting—emotional and even visceral responses.
I still love just having balloons around. At a former job, I decorated my office with them (we were in the entertainment business—such quirks were tolerated). Now I decorate my house with them in the winter. They oxidize in the summer, and I don't like oxidized balloons, even though when I was little, I kept them until they were oxidized and nearly flat. See? It's complicated.
I still like to cuddle with balloons, although I don't get much opportunity these days. Some of the cuddling leads to sexual activity, but a surprising amount of it does not.
And where popping balloons is concerned, things get even more complicated. I pop balloons now, something I never, ever did until I was in my teens. I can even do it without earplugs, in most circumstances.
But when I'm around someone else who has a balloon, I get a sudden flight response, and I want to get away as quickly as possible. I don't like being around popping balloons if I'm not in control of the situation.
And yet, watching a lovely lady do something that might pop a balloon is sexually arousing for me. So there's where the conflicting feeling come in. I really want to get away from the balloon, and I really want to stick around and watch the lovely lady pop the balloon.
Provided she's popping it the right way. If she's going after balloons with a pin, forget it, I'll run away as fast as I can. If she's sitting on it, I'll stay. If she's blowing it up until it pops...well, I don't know what I'll do because it scares the crap out of me and it turns me on. Conflicted!
I'm sure that there are a lot of stories out there just like mine—not in the details, you understand, but in the general sense that their feelings for balloons are not simply sexual.
Not, in fact, anything simple at all.
Monday, December 16, 2013
Sometimes Publishing Gets Weird
From time to time I check to see how my books are doing on Amazon.com. I check the ranking, review the descriptions, think about cover design and whether or not I can afford to have a better one done.
And, I look at the price. Now, since I set the price when I publish the book, that might seem odd, but the fact is that I only set the suggested retail price. Amazon can change the price at which they decide to sell the book, and so I sometimes see it available for a lower price, which I will occasionally announce so that anyone who's thinking about buying it will be tempted all that much more.
But today I looked at the price, saw that Amazon.com has Blowing It! available in paperback for $6.75, which is 75 cents below list—nice—but that someone else has it new for $6.32. Now, I have recently made the book available for expanded distribution, so that retailers other than Amazon can carry it. Now, this seller charges $3.99 for shipping, and if you buy it from Amazon with an order totaling $35 in eligible items, you can get it shipped for free, so Amazon is probably still a better deal.
It doesn't, by the way, make any difference to me.
But what was truly bizarre is that the price for used copies of Blowing It! start at (are you ready for this?) $19.05. For a used copy of a book that you can buy new for $6.32. Makes perfect sense.
And even stranger is that one seller (I'll leave it to your curiosity to find out which) sells the book for $999.11! If I could sell even one copy for that price, I would be very happy indeed. In fact, if you are of a mind to pay that kind of money for a copy, shoot me an email and I'll arrange it. I'll even throw in the shipping (which this seller doesn't)!
And let me make something perfectly clear. Blowing It! and Eric's Secret are print-on-demand titles. There is no such thing as a first edition, and they will be in print for as long as I want them to be. Each book is printed when you order it and not a moment sooner. There is absolutely no reason to pay more for a used copy of any of my books than for a new copy (although if you can find a used copy for less, jump on it).
Perhaps someday, when I'm dead and gone and my heirs decided to withdraw the books from circulation, existing copies will be worth the extra money, if only for the novelty. But for now, save your money and buy a new copy or a Kindle edition, and have a good read.
And use the money you save to buy some balloons. $992.79 will buy enough balloons to fill a house. And that, I can get next to.
And, I look at the price. Now, since I set the price when I publish the book, that might seem odd, but the fact is that I only set the suggested retail price. Amazon can change the price at which they decide to sell the book, and so I sometimes see it available for a lower price, which I will occasionally announce so that anyone who's thinking about buying it will be tempted all that much more.
But today I looked at the price, saw that Amazon.com has Blowing It! available in paperback for $6.75, which is 75 cents below list—nice—but that someone else has it new for $6.32. Now, I have recently made the book available for expanded distribution, so that retailers other than Amazon can carry it. Now, this seller charges $3.99 for shipping, and if you buy it from Amazon with an order totaling $35 in eligible items, you can get it shipped for free, so Amazon is probably still a better deal.
It doesn't, by the way, make any difference to me.
But what was truly bizarre is that the price for used copies of Blowing It! start at (are you ready for this?) $19.05. For a used copy of a book that you can buy new for $6.32. Makes perfect sense.
And even stranger is that one seller (I'll leave it to your curiosity to find out which) sells the book for $999.11! If I could sell even one copy for that price, I would be very happy indeed. In fact, if you are of a mind to pay that kind of money for a copy, shoot me an email and I'll arrange it. I'll even throw in the shipping (which this seller doesn't)!
And let me make something perfectly clear. Blowing It! and Eric's Secret are print-on-demand titles. There is no such thing as a first edition, and they will be in print for as long as I want them to be. Each book is printed when you order it and not a moment sooner. There is absolutely no reason to pay more for a used copy of any of my books than for a new copy (although if you can find a used copy for less, jump on it).
Perhaps someday, when I'm dead and gone and my heirs decided to withdraw the books from circulation, existing copies will be worth the extra money, if only for the novelty. But for now, save your money and buy a new copy or a Kindle edition, and have a good read.
And use the money you save to buy some balloons. $992.79 will buy enough balloons to fill a house. And that, I can get next to.
Sunday, October 6, 2013
Popping and Not Popping: The False Dichotomy
It's supposed to be the great divide between balloon fetishists: popper vs. non-popper, as if we could picture some great room with a line down the middle, and on one side the poppers would be gleefully destroying their balloons, and on the other the non-poppers would be lovingly protecting theirs. And presumably, for those non-poppers who are also phobic, the line down the middle would actually be a soundproof wall.
It's a silly picture, I know, but it's the kind of simplification I hear over and over again. I even get asked, frequently, "Are you a popper or a non-popper?"
Well, the pseudonym I chose might give you a clue. But the first name is not short for Timothy; it's short for timid. I'm what you might call a sometimes-phobic-sort-of-popper. And that's about as much categorization as I'm willing to commit to.
Each of us has a very individual relationship to balloons. For some it's very emotional, for others it's only sexual, and for others it may be both. And if you think that there is an perfect correlation between the emotional side of the relationship and a fetishist's position on popping balloons, you might find yourself quite surprised.
Take me, for example. I have a strong emotional attachment to balloons. I love having them around, and I used to rescue them from being popped when I was little. I will often keep balloons around for months, hanging up or hidden somewhere to play with. My first sexual interest in balloons revolved strictly around close, physical, non-popping contact with them. When they popped by accident, it scared me and made me sad. Parties were a nightmare.
But somewhere along the line, I also came to be sexually excited by balloons popping, and I am to this day. But the prospect of watching even an incredibly gorgeous, totally naked woman take a pin and pop a huge number of balloons very quickly leaves me not only unexcited, but highly disappointed. Because the pop is not what I'm after. The pop that excites me comes at the end of close contact, as with sitting or lying on a balloon, or with the total involvement of blowing up a balloon until it pops.
Pin, lighters, knives, high heels, fingernails, even bare feet don't do it for me; I want to see intimate involvement. The best, for me, is bare butt against not-too-tight balloon, with considerable bouncing before the balloon gives up.
But that's just me. All of the things that I mentioned that don't do it for me, do it for someone else. So when someone says they are a popper, they are only telling a small part of the story, most likely.
Same for non-poppers. Not wanting to pop balloons—and it can be about fear, about loss, or even about indifference—says nothing about how a fetishist enjoys balloons, and the variety of ways can be rather staggering.
And the crossover, what the so-called experts who like to classify things would call being a "semi-popper" (what does that mean, that you only pop half your balloons?), can get even more complicated still. There are those who don't pop that are still somewhat excited by the pop, or by the danger of the pop without the actual pop. Conversely, there are those for whom the pop is a buzzkill. There are also non-poppers who don't much care if a balloon pops, but they are just not excited by it.
So the next time you see an article or TV show about balloon fetishes that claims that we are neatly divided into "poppers, non-poppers, and semi-poppers," take it with a grain of salt, and maybe write in and set the record straight.
Or just send them here.
It's a silly picture, I know, but it's the kind of simplification I hear over and over again. I even get asked, frequently, "Are you a popper or a non-popper?"
Well, the pseudonym I chose might give you a clue. But the first name is not short for Timothy; it's short for timid. I'm what you might call a sometimes-phobic-sort-of-popper. And that's about as much categorization as I'm willing to commit to.
Each of us has a very individual relationship to balloons. For some it's very emotional, for others it's only sexual, and for others it may be both. And if you think that there is an perfect correlation between the emotional side of the relationship and a fetishist's position on popping balloons, you might find yourself quite surprised.
Take me, for example. I have a strong emotional attachment to balloons. I love having them around, and I used to rescue them from being popped when I was little. I will often keep balloons around for months, hanging up or hidden somewhere to play with. My first sexual interest in balloons revolved strictly around close, physical, non-popping contact with them. When they popped by accident, it scared me and made me sad. Parties were a nightmare.
But somewhere along the line, I also came to be sexually excited by balloons popping, and I am to this day. But the prospect of watching even an incredibly gorgeous, totally naked woman take a pin and pop a huge number of balloons very quickly leaves me not only unexcited, but highly disappointed. Because the pop is not what I'm after. The pop that excites me comes at the end of close contact, as with sitting or lying on a balloon, or with the total involvement of blowing up a balloon until it pops.
Pin, lighters, knives, high heels, fingernails, even bare feet don't do it for me; I want to see intimate involvement. The best, for me, is bare butt against not-too-tight balloon, with considerable bouncing before the balloon gives up.
But that's just me. All of the things that I mentioned that don't do it for me, do it for someone else. So when someone says they are a popper, they are only telling a small part of the story, most likely.
Same for non-poppers. Not wanting to pop balloons—and it can be about fear, about loss, or even about indifference—says nothing about how a fetishist enjoys balloons, and the variety of ways can be rather staggering.
And the crossover, what the so-called experts who like to classify things would call being a "semi-popper" (what does that mean, that you only pop half your balloons?), can get even more complicated still. There are those who don't pop that are still somewhat excited by the pop, or by the danger of the pop without the actual pop. Conversely, there are those for whom the pop is a buzzkill. There are also non-poppers who don't much care if a balloon pops, but they are just not excited by it.
So the next time you see an article or TV show about balloon fetishes that claims that we are neatly divided into "poppers, non-poppers, and semi-poppers," take it with a grain of salt, and maybe write in and set the record straight.
Or just send them here.
Friday, September 27, 2013
Can I Have Some Facts Here, Please?
I'm getting weary of cable television shows about balloon fetishism. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against the balloon fetishists themselves, who want to tell their story and promote some understanding and maybe acceptance. And I have to admit that Dennis fared a lot better on The Discovery Channel's Forbidden segment as far as editing, lighting, and music than did his predecessors on similar shows in the past on TLC and National Geographic.
But what about research? What about facts? What about getting experts who (and I realize that this is a radical idea) actually know what the hell they are talking about?
Let's take the most recent show, Forbidden, as an example. Here are some of the ideas presented as fact through narration and by talking heads "experts" (whose names are not given on this particular show, leaving us no chance to check their qualifications):
"There are up to 250,000 'looners' worldwide." Anyone who says that they know how many people in the world have a balloon fetish are pulling figures out of thin air. At least the expert on Strange Sex had a study she was referring to, although she doesn't actually remember where the study came from (something I know from personal correspondence with the good doctor). I suspect the worldwide figure is probably higher, and the 250,000-500,000 for the US alone cited in Strange Sex is much too high, but there really is no way to tell. This is not the sort of thing that Nielsen runs a telephone survey on. ("Good afternoon, this is Mr. Johnson from A.C. Nielsen. I'd like to ask you about any sexual fetishes you have. Hello? Hello?")
"Looner lads outnumber ladies by 30 to one." I have no doubt that lady balloon fetishists are much rarer than gentlemen balloon fetishists, but no one knows the ratio with any certainty whatsoever.
"And they're mostly young—in their 20s to 30s." Excuse me? As a balloon fetishist in his mid-50s who has been corresponding with other balloon fetishists since I was in my mid-20s, and who acquired his balloon fetish in his pre-teens, I can tell you that this notion is patently ridiculous. We come in all ages.
"Balloons are brought out during special times, which would be one thing that would make it [sic] more likely to be a fetish object than something that you would see every single day." Yeah, right, that's why there are so many shoe fetishists because, you know, shoes only come out during special times. Who is this woman?
"Part of the thing that makes a balloon fetish too is the fact that it can look as though it's a sexual shape." This woman obviously has no idea why people develop fetishes. "Oh yeah, that balloon looks like a breast and that one looks like a penis, and that shoe looks like a ... shoe." She's really just making this up as she goes. I'm sure she's never talked to a real balloon fetishist in her entire life (at least not that she knows of).
"Unlike kids' balloons, which are made of cheap synthetic rubber, Dennis favors inflatables of premium natural latex." Good luck going into your local party store and finding a balloon made of synthetic rubber, which is not cheap at all. Although balloons might have more or less added chemistry, the balloons that kids play with are the same latex balloons we play with. We just don't play with them the same way.
Aside from the factual errors, there is the whole structure of this, with the talking heads and the little history of the invention of rubber balloons thrown in to make it sound like the show covers the entire subject.
With all due respect to Dennis, his approach to the fetish is only one aspect of a very, very broad subject. Popping was only mentioned by Dennis as something that just happens sometimes. For Dennis, as with non-poppers in general, that's an undesirable thing. But for others, myself included, balloons popping is an important part of the experience. And for many, it's the whole point of their fetish.
But back to the subject of "experts." I don't think anyone is a true expert on balloon fetishism. Those of us who have one tend to have a fairly narrow view. And I doubt that anyone, even a clinician, who does not have the fetish would devote the necessary time for true in-depth study.
But the cable channels have to have their talking heads, right? So they pick a handy psychologist or two and just ask them to talk on camera about balloon fetishes. And, not having treated a balloon fetishist before, because rarer than a balloon fetishist is a balloon fetishist who seeks treatment for it, this person coughs up whatever is in the literature (or what they remember from the literature, if they are too lazy or haven't been given time to look it up), plus whatever comes to mind about how they think a balloon fetish might play out.
Worse yet is consulting someone like Karen McIntyre, the "expert" from National Geographic's Taboo, who is a reporter who wrote a thesis paper about balloon fetishism while she was a journalism student. Look up her paper: it's full of bizarrely cute animated graphics. And somehow this one paper makes her an expert.
And one of Taboo's other experts was a sociologist. Now there's someone who really knows about sexual development!
It's not that I think the general public needs to know all the little details about our sexual interest in balloons—there are certainly more important things that they, and frankly we, should be devoting our attention to. But of the information that's out there, these shows are where the majority of non-fetishists find out about this unusual fetish.
And I think we'd all be a lot better off if they were getting information that actually contained some good old-fashioned facts.
But what about research? What about facts? What about getting experts who (and I realize that this is a radical idea) actually know what the hell they are talking about?
Let's take the most recent show, Forbidden, as an example. Here are some of the ideas presented as fact through narration and by talking heads "experts" (whose names are not given on this particular show, leaving us no chance to check their qualifications):
"There are up to 250,000 'looners' worldwide." Anyone who says that they know how many people in the world have a balloon fetish are pulling figures out of thin air. At least the expert on Strange Sex had a study she was referring to, although she doesn't actually remember where the study came from (something I know from personal correspondence with the good doctor). I suspect the worldwide figure is probably higher, and the 250,000-500,000 for the US alone cited in Strange Sex is much too high, but there really is no way to tell. This is not the sort of thing that Nielsen runs a telephone survey on. ("Good afternoon, this is Mr. Johnson from A.C. Nielsen. I'd like to ask you about any sexual fetishes you have. Hello? Hello?")
"Looner lads outnumber ladies by 30 to one." I have no doubt that lady balloon fetishists are much rarer than gentlemen balloon fetishists, but no one knows the ratio with any certainty whatsoever.
"And they're mostly young—in their 20s to 30s." Excuse me? As a balloon fetishist in his mid-50s who has been corresponding with other balloon fetishists since I was in my mid-20s, and who acquired his balloon fetish in his pre-teens, I can tell you that this notion is patently ridiculous. We come in all ages.
"Balloons are brought out during special times, which would be one thing that would make it [sic] more likely to be a fetish object than something that you would see every single day." Yeah, right, that's why there are so many shoe fetishists because, you know, shoes only come out during special times. Who is this woman?
"Part of the thing that makes a balloon fetish too is the fact that it can look as though it's a sexual shape." This woman obviously has no idea why people develop fetishes. "Oh yeah, that balloon looks like a breast and that one looks like a penis, and that shoe looks like a ... shoe." She's really just making this up as she goes. I'm sure she's never talked to a real balloon fetishist in her entire life (at least not that she knows of).
"Unlike kids' balloons, which are made of cheap synthetic rubber, Dennis favors inflatables of premium natural latex." Good luck going into your local party store and finding a balloon made of synthetic rubber, which is not cheap at all. Although balloons might have more or less added chemistry, the balloons that kids play with are the same latex balloons we play with. We just don't play with them the same way.
Aside from the factual errors, there is the whole structure of this, with the talking heads and the little history of the invention of rubber balloons thrown in to make it sound like the show covers the entire subject.
With all due respect to Dennis, his approach to the fetish is only one aspect of a very, very broad subject. Popping was only mentioned by Dennis as something that just happens sometimes. For Dennis, as with non-poppers in general, that's an undesirable thing. But for others, myself included, balloons popping is an important part of the experience. And for many, it's the whole point of their fetish.
But back to the subject of "experts." I don't think anyone is a true expert on balloon fetishism. Those of us who have one tend to have a fairly narrow view. And I doubt that anyone, even a clinician, who does not have the fetish would devote the necessary time for true in-depth study.
But the cable channels have to have their talking heads, right? So they pick a handy psychologist or two and just ask them to talk on camera about balloon fetishes. And, not having treated a balloon fetishist before, because rarer than a balloon fetishist is a balloon fetishist who seeks treatment for it, this person coughs up whatever is in the literature (or what they remember from the literature, if they are too lazy or haven't been given time to look it up), plus whatever comes to mind about how they think a balloon fetish might play out.
Worse yet is consulting someone like Karen McIntyre, the "expert" from National Geographic's Taboo, who is a reporter who wrote a thesis paper about balloon fetishism while she was a journalism student. Look up her paper: it's full of bizarrely cute animated graphics. And somehow this one paper makes her an expert.
And one of Taboo's other experts was a sociologist. Now there's someone who really knows about sexual development!
It's not that I think the general public needs to know all the little details about our sexual interest in balloons—there are certainly more important things that they, and frankly we, should be devoting our attention to. But of the information that's out there, these shows are where the majority of non-fetishists find out about this unusual fetish.
And I think we'd all be a lot better off if they were getting information that actually contained some good old-fashioned facts.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Update on Writings
I'm still not sure how the character in my new story, a phobic female non-popper who never throws away her balloons, makes the transition to being a popper. Usually this is the kind of thing I like to know before I start writing an actual manuscript. But somehow I just decided that I needed to write, to get to know the young lady before I put her through, well, whatever is going to change her mind and turn her life in a different direction.
So far, about a thousand words in, I still have no idea. But I think I know the character pretty well, so once I've reviewed a few ideas about how such a conversion might take place, I'll know which ones are not credible for her, and which are. With luck, one will stand out as being just right for her. I welcome any suggestions from those who have made the transition.
On the non-fiction front, I haven't gotten as many responses to my requests for research material as I had hoped, and I think I'm going to have to be a little more aggressive in going after information. Don't worry, I won't bite. But I will be asking people I know online (and find online) in a more direct manner as time goes on.
Meanwhile, I've decided that I am going to turn the one book into two books. The first will be a personal perspective on balloon fetishism, out of my own experiences and what I have observed over the past five decades that I have had these strong feelings for balloons. Why? Because I feel the need to get something out soon, to counter some misinformation that's already out there, and more that I expect in the near future (I won't go into detail about that—I just want some facts on our side).
And I don't want to give the second book, with real stories from real fetishists to show the depth and breadth of these feeling, short-shrift. I don't want to feel rushed to get something to press and find that I have left important aspects out, or misinterpreted what I've read online without getting the whole story.
So that's where I am now. I'll keep everyone up to date.
So far, about a thousand words in, I still have no idea. But I think I know the character pretty well, so once I've reviewed a few ideas about how such a conversion might take place, I'll know which ones are not credible for her, and which are. With luck, one will stand out as being just right for her. I welcome any suggestions from those who have made the transition.
On the non-fiction front, I haven't gotten as many responses to my requests for research material as I had hoped, and I think I'm going to have to be a little more aggressive in going after information. Don't worry, I won't bite. But I will be asking people I know online (and find online) in a more direct manner as time goes on.
Meanwhile, I've decided that I am going to turn the one book into two books. The first will be a personal perspective on balloon fetishism, out of my own experiences and what I have observed over the past five decades that I have had these strong feelings for balloons. Why? Because I feel the need to get something out soon, to counter some misinformation that's already out there, and more that I expect in the near future (I won't go into detail about that—I just want some facts on our side).
And I don't want to give the second book, with real stories from real fetishists to show the depth and breadth of these feeling, short-shrift. I don't want to feel rushed to get something to press and find that I have left important aspects out, or misinterpreted what I've read online without getting the whole story.
So that's where I am now. I'll keep everyone up to date.
Monday, June 10, 2013
Thinking About My Next Story
I'm starting a new short story, and I think this one is going to be about a non-popper who becomes a popper. Not venturing too far out of my own experience yet, but give me time!
My conversion experiences happened in my late teens, only about five years after my first sexual experience with balloons. It kind of started with the TV show Wonderama (if you're too young to remember Wonderama, try to find reference to the "Balloon Bottom Relay" on the Internet; you will not find any footage, which is just as well because all the participants were underage. But then, at the time, so was I).
Then a girl that I lusted over told me that she like to pop balloons by sitting on them. At first I was repelled by the thought, but since I wasn't repelled by the girl I started to have fantasies about her butt in such hard contact with a balloon, and my fetish took a very different direction after that.
But I think I'm leaning toward an adult conversion in this next story. I want to make sure I set up the character's fetish in such a way that the conversion is believable even after all his or her time being a non-popper (haven't decided if the main character is male or female yet).
That will probably involve a lot of time trying to recapture the way I felt before I was excited by balloons popping. I don't think that will be too hard; I still enjoy non-popping play, and I like to keep balloons around for a long time, as I've mentioned here before.
As to the actual conversion event, that will probably involve a lot of fantasizing. It's a tough job, but it's got to be done.
My conversion experiences happened in my late teens, only about five years after my first sexual experience with balloons. It kind of started with the TV show Wonderama (if you're too young to remember Wonderama, try to find reference to the "Balloon Bottom Relay" on the Internet; you will not find any footage, which is just as well because all the participants were underage. But then, at the time, so was I).
Then a girl that I lusted over told me that she like to pop balloons by sitting on them. At first I was repelled by the thought, but since I wasn't repelled by the girl I started to have fantasies about her butt in such hard contact with a balloon, and my fetish took a very different direction after that.
But I think I'm leaning toward an adult conversion in this next story. I want to make sure I set up the character's fetish in such a way that the conversion is believable even after all his or her time being a non-popper (haven't decided if the main character is male or female yet).
That will probably involve a lot of time trying to recapture the way I felt before I was excited by balloons popping. I don't think that will be too hard; I still enjoy non-popping play, and I like to keep balloons around for a long time, as I've mentioned here before.
As to the actual conversion event, that will probably involve a lot of fantasizing. It's a tough job, but it's got to be done.
Saturday, May 25, 2013
An Open Letter About Globophilia and Pedophilia
I have edited this post in response to actions by the party about whom I originally wrote it. But I have retained the following paragraphs:
I also would like to ask all my fellow balloon lovers to make sure they are above reproach. Though I would like to think I didn't need to say this, it harms all of us when a balloon fetishist posts pictures of minors—no matter how innocent the picture itself—with balloons, or makes inappropriate comments on pictures and videos, or dares minor children to perform acts with balloons to satisfy their own desires.
And it's not enough to refrain from those behaviors. We need to call those who make us look bad to the carpet as well, as publicly as possible, as adamantly as the behavior demands.
We are already handicapped by the fact that the object of our desire is perceived as a child's toy (see my take here on that subject, among others). We have to separate our sexual interest in balloons from anything connected with children.
Otherwise, the haters of the world will win, and instead of seeing documentaries about men in the woods doing blow-to-pops, or men in their bedrooms stuffing balloons up their shirts, we may start seeing alarmist reports about balloon fetishists molesting children.
And at that point, the truth won' t matter even one little bit.
Please fight the good fight!
I also would like to ask all my fellow balloon lovers to make sure they are above reproach. Though I would like to think I didn't need to say this, it harms all of us when a balloon fetishist posts pictures of minors—no matter how innocent the picture itself—with balloons, or makes inappropriate comments on pictures and videos, or dares minor children to perform acts with balloons to satisfy their own desires.
And it's not enough to refrain from those behaviors. We need to call those who make us look bad to the carpet as well, as publicly as possible, as adamantly as the behavior demands.
We are already handicapped by the fact that the object of our desire is perceived as a child's toy (see my take here on that subject, among others). We have to separate our sexual interest in balloons from anything connected with children.
Otherwise, the haters of the world will win, and instead of seeing documentaries about men in the woods doing blow-to-pops, or men in their bedrooms stuffing balloons up their shirts, we may start seeing alarmist reports about balloon fetishists molesting children.
And at that point, the truth won' t matter even one little bit.
Please fight the good fight!
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Perspectives
I'm writing a short story, and unlike the main male character in my novel, this gentleman has a different kind of balloon fetish, a different kind of history, and a different kind of life from mine. So I have to let myself get into his head a little and imagine what it would be like to feel the way he feels.
In some ways it's not as hard as I thought it would be, but then this character isn't so distant from me in interests; it's not as if he is turned on by things I hate. It's more that he would probably hate some of the things that turn me on. It's more a matter of restraint on my part, I think. (Notice I haven't actually told you what his interests are. I'm keeping it as a surprise. Besides, I might end up changing some of it before I finish the story.)
But it did get me thinking about two things. First, when I get around to writing a story about a character whose interests deviate from mine a lot, will I be up to the task? Will it ring hollow because I don't personally get turned on in the same way? Or can I use my own experience with what turns me on, combine it with what I've read from other balloon fetishists, and create something convincing and enjoyable?
Second, am I really in any better position to understand my fellow fetishists than anyone else out there? As I've said, there is so much variety, and even one of my characters in the book expressed disdain for a popping method that she, personally, didn't like.
As to the first question, I don't think I'll know the answer until I try. I may discover, by the end of the first story I do that's far outside my own likes, that I can immediately detect my utter lack of identification with it, and toss the story out in favor of something I know much better. Or, maybe it will look okay to me and my readers will tell me I'm full of it (or at least full of myself).
The thing to do, I think is to dive right in a do a story where I don't identify with the interests of any of the characters involved and see what comes out. Maybe the story after the one I'm doing.
Now, as far as the second question goes, I think the answer is yes. Not only because I have a balloon fetish, but because, as a writer, I've had to put myself in the minds of so many characters. In fact, I think any fiction writer with an open mind who's willing to take the time to read the forums (and ignore the mainstream media) might do pretty well at understanding us.
Unfortunately, there have already been a few writers who took a stab at it without making the effort to understand. The only saving grace is that hardly anyone has read their work.
But then, I don't write balloon fetish stories to make a lot of money; the hourly pay is lousy. And I don't write to convince the masses, for I don't expect them to understand. But there are definitely intangible rewards. Even when I have to give my stories away, it feels good to know that there are people out there who, even if their fetishes are not exactly like mine, still understand the basic gist of what I'm writing about.
And that makes it worth the time and effort.
In some ways it's not as hard as I thought it would be, but then this character isn't so distant from me in interests; it's not as if he is turned on by things I hate. It's more that he would probably hate some of the things that turn me on. It's more a matter of restraint on my part, I think. (Notice I haven't actually told you what his interests are. I'm keeping it as a surprise. Besides, I might end up changing some of it before I finish the story.)
But it did get me thinking about two things. First, when I get around to writing a story about a character whose interests deviate from mine a lot, will I be up to the task? Will it ring hollow because I don't personally get turned on in the same way? Or can I use my own experience with what turns me on, combine it with what I've read from other balloon fetishists, and create something convincing and enjoyable?
Second, am I really in any better position to understand my fellow fetishists than anyone else out there? As I've said, there is so much variety, and even one of my characters in the book expressed disdain for a popping method that she, personally, didn't like.
As to the first question, I don't think I'll know the answer until I try. I may discover, by the end of the first story I do that's far outside my own likes, that I can immediately detect my utter lack of identification with it, and toss the story out in favor of something I know much better. Or, maybe it will look okay to me and my readers will tell me I'm full of it (or at least full of myself).
The thing to do, I think is to dive right in a do a story where I don't identify with the interests of any of the characters involved and see what comes out. Maybe the story after the one I'm doing.
Now, as far as the second question goes, I think the answer is yes. Not only because I have a balloon fetish, but because, as a writer, I've had to put myself in the minds of so many characters. In fact, I think any fiction writer with an open mind who's willing to take the time to read the forums (and ignore the mainstream media) might do pretty well at understanding us.
Unfortunately, there have already been a few writers who took a stab at it without making the effort to understand. The only saving grace is that hardly anyone has read their work.
But then, I don't write balloon fetish stories to make a lot of money; the hourly pay is lousy. And I don't write to convince the masses, for I don't expect them to understand. But there are definitely intangible rewards. Even when I have to give my stories away, it feels good to know that there are people out there who, even if their fetishes are not exactly like mine, still understand the basic gist of what I'm writing about.
And that makes it worth the time and effort.
Friday, March 15, 2013
My New Year's Balloons
I finally took my New Year's balloons down, two and a half months into the year. In my house in the winter, good-quality balloons will stay shiny and firm enough to be nice to look at for several months. But when the spring comes and we start to open the windows to let in the fresh air, the balloons soon oxidize and lose that lovely shine.
We are still several weeks from that point, but I live in a house with children and don't get much privacy. So I took advantage of an empty house to have some fun with them while I had the chance.
The balloons were Qualatex jewels, and when they have been inflated for that long, the rubber is a little stiff, so they are not so good for sit-popping. But I also like to stuff balloons in my clothing, and they were still very nice for that.
I don't like oxidized balloons, so even though I was sad to not have the balloons hanging in my room anymore, I was glad I had some fun with them before they started to fade. This is different from many others who actually prefer oxidized balloons, or don't care one way or the other. Each of us has very specific likes and dislikes when it comes to balloons.
For example, a lot of people who like to pop balloons probably wouldn't keep them around so long. But I like to have balloons around to look at, and I like non-popping play, so I'm not always in a hurry to pop my balloons. Even balloons I've blown up specifically to play with sometimes end up in my closet for a time until I am in the mood (and have the opportunity) to pop them.
It's a good thing my wife understands.
We are still several weeks from that point, but I live in a house with children and don't get much privacy. So I took advantage of an empty house to have some fun with them while I had the chance.
The balloons were Qualatex jewels, and when they have been inflated for that long, the rubber is a little stiff, so they are not so good for sit-popping. But I also like to stuff balloons in my clothing, and they were still very nice for that.
I don't like oxidized balloons, so even though I was sad to not have the balloons hanging in my room anymore, I was glad I had some fun with them before they started to fade. This is different from many others who actually prefer oxidized balloons, or don't care one way or the other. Each of us has very specific likes and dislikes when it comes to balloons.
For example, a lot of people who like to pop balloons probably wouldn't keep them around so long. But I like to have balloons around to look at, and I like non-popping play, so I'm not always in a hurry to pop my balloons. Even balloons I've blown up specifically to play with sometimes end up in my closet for a time until I am in the mood (and have the opportunity) to pop them.
It's a good thing my wife understands.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Seen On Twitter
I post and follow on Twitter, but not very often. It started as a way to promote my book, and that score it has been spectacularly unsuccessful. But I haven't deleted my Twitter account because it does add some dimension to the research for my new book.
I keep a search going for the words "balloon fetish." Not so much to find other fetishists (Facebook, it turns out, is much more fruitful for that), but to see what people are saying about balloon fetishes. Mostly, I see very little posting by actual fetishists; what I mostly see is promotional posts by balloon fetish sites, and posts by people who have recently watched either Strange Sex or National Geographic's Taboo.
And the reactions are usually not positive. Now, as an indicator of how the general public feels watching a segment about balloon fetishism (albeit a narrow and misleading one, in both cases), tweets are probably not very helpful. When you consider who tweets, and what they normally tweet about, you might expect to get more "I just saw something really weird" posts than "I just saw this and found it very interesting" or "I was watching this and I really didn't have much of a reaction to it" posts.
Still, it's disturbing to see so many posters responding to these documentaries with LOLs and WTFs. And for a while I tried to set them straight, sending a link to my short, but more reasoned page on the subject on my book's site. But I realized that it was just a knee-jerk reaction on my part. No one who does posts like that is going to change his or her mind because a real fetishist tweets something to them. Maybe if one of their own friends came out to them as a fetishist. Or maybe not.
It makes people feel secure and more powerful socially to reject something that hints at "otherness." Especially young adults, from whom most of these posts seem to come. We just have to accept the fact that our sexual oddities cause discomfort to most of those who don't share them.
Of course, I'm sure that any of my gay and lesbian friends could have told me that.
I keep a search going for the words "balloon fetish." Not so much to find other fetishists (Facebook, it turns out, is much more fruitful for that), but to see what people are saying about balloon fetishes. Mostly, I see very little posting by actual fetishists; what I mostly see is promotional posts by balloon fetish sites, and posts by people who have recently watched either Strange Sex or National Geographic's Taboo.
And the reactions are usually not positive. Now, as an indicator of how the general public feels watching a segment about balloon fetishism (albeit a narrow and misleading one, in both cases), tweets are probably not very helpful. When you consider who tweets, and what they normally tweet about, you might expect to get more "I just saw something really weird" posts than "I just saw this and found it very interesting" or "I was watching this and I really didn't have much of a reaction to it" posts.
Still, it's disturbing to see so many posters responding to these documentaries with LOLs and WTFs. And for a while I tried to set them straight, sending a link to my short, but more reasoned page on the subject on my book's site. But I realized that it was just a knee-jerk reaction on my part. No one who does posts like that is going to change his or her mind because a real fetishist tweets something to them. Maybe if one of their own friends came out to them as a fetishist. Or maybe not.
It makes people feel secure and more powerful socially to reject something that hints at "otherness." Especially young adults, from whom most of these posts seem to come. We just have to accept the fact that our sexual oddities cause discomfort to most of those who don't share them.
Of course, I'm sure that any of my gay and lesbian friends could have told me that.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Taking Over
I have been asked by my long-time correspondent Triple Outcast to take over Globophilia, as he is deleting his Google account and didn't want to see the URL go to waste. I will need to sort out for myself which of my writings should be in my author's blog, and which should be in this one, and I hope that I won't be neglectful as I take this over.
Thanks to T.O. for handing this over to me. I hope he made the right decision.
Thanks to T.O. for handing this over to me. I hope he made the right decision.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Aaargh!
It won't be the first time that balloon fetishism has been presented on national television. I know of at least two other segments, the most recent on Strange Sex. But when National Geographic does something, you expect a nice, straightforward, factual account.
But if the preview on NG's YouTube channel is any indication, the upcoming episode of "Taboo" will be the most sensationalized, and misleading, portrayal of balloon fetishism I've yet seen.
The preview features Dave from Arkansas, who doesn't pop his balloons or, according to Dave, have sex with them. I don't know if I'd even categorize that as "fetish," but who am I to split hairs. The fact is, I've managed to find out a bit more about Dave than that little clip; he has posted and commented on YouTube in the past.
He has strong feelings about popping balloons, but he comes across in his YouTube persona as a pretty nice guy, and no stranger than many other people I see on the Internet. In fact, a whole lot less strange than some.
But at the hands of the folks at National Geographic, he comes across as really, really creepy. Even the music they edit into the end of the segment makes him seem completely bizarre. This is just sensationalist crap, and unworthy of anything that bears the National Geographic name.
I am swayed toward the view expressed by Tim Popper in the afterword of his novel. He talks about there not really being a single balloon fetish, but a huge variety of fetishes that happen to involve balloons. And the more I see other balloon lovers talk about their particular likes and dislikes, the more I think that this is true.
Dave, as unfairly portrayed in this hideous video, does not represent the panoply of balloon fetishes. But then, no single one of us could. It's bad enough that people who know nothing about us write term papers and magazine articles. But to use the most blatant tricks of the motion picture trade to make us all look truly insane is beneath contempt.
And it makes me cringe even more to hear the term "looner."
But if the preview on NG's YouTube channel is any indication, the upcoming episode of "Taboo" will be the most sensationalized, and misleading, portrayal of balloon fetishism I've yet seen.
The preview features Dave from Arkansas, who doesn't pop his balloons or, according to Dave, have sex with them. I don't know if I'd even categorize that as "fetish," but who am I to split hairs. The fact is, I've managed to find out a bit more about Dave than that little clip; he has posted and commented on YouTube in the past.
He has strong feelings about popping balloons, but he comes across in his YouTube persona as a pretty nice guy, and no stranger than many other people I see on the Internet. In fact, a whole lot less strange than some.
But at the hands of the folks at National Geographic, he comes across as really, really creepy. Even the music they edit into the end of the segment makes him seem completely bizarre. This is just sensationalist crap, and unworthy of anything that bears the National Geographic name.
I am swayed toward the view expressed by Tim Popper in the afterword of his novel. He talks about there not really being a single balloon fetish, but a huge variety of fetishes that happen to involve balloons. And the more I see other balloon lovers talk about their particular likes and dislikes, the more I think that this is true.
Dave, as unfairly portrayed in this hideous video, does not represent the panoply of balloon fetishes. But then, no single one of us could. It's bad enough that people who know nothing about us write term papers and magazine articles. But to use the most blatant tricks of the motion picture trade to make us all look truly insane is beneath contempt.
And it makes me cringe even more to hear the term "looner."
Saturday, June 23, 2012
A Balloon Fetish Book
There is a now a novel featuring two balloon fetishists as the main characters. It is entitled "Blowing It!" and you can read more about it at this blog.
I wouldn't say that this book represents globophilia coming into the mainstream, but it is an interesting turn of events, and probably one that was inevitable. After all, there have been many balloon stories published on the 'Net over the years, and there was one guy (I assume a guy, though the author is just JC Fetish) who did a balloon fetish chapter in something called the "Book of Fetishes" (although I found his understanding of balloon fetishes, and the origins of fetishes in general, profoundly lacking).
This book was written pseudonymously, by someone who calls himself Tim Popper (Timid Popper in the forums where he, occasionally, posts). It's not a long book at 132 pages, but it seems to be just long enough for the story. I think it's worth a look.
If you like it, do the author a favor and rate it on Amazon or at least post a comment in his blog. Being an author, especially in a narrow niche like this one, can be really lonely. It's like sending your baby out into the world and holding your breath to see what the world thinks.
Even if you don't like it, give him some feedback. Maybe he'll write more.
(And by the way, I've noticed that none of you has commented on this blog either. What does a guy have to do, post something really insulting? Just sayin'!)
I wouldn't say that this book represents globophilia coming into the mainstream, but it is an interesting turn of events, and probably one that was inevitable. After all, there have been many balloon stories published on the 'Net over the years, and there was one guy (I assume a guy, though the author is just JC Fetish) who did a balloon fetish chapter in something called the "Book of Fetishes" (although I found his understanding of balloon fetishes, and the origins of fetishes in general, profoundly lacking).
This book was written pseudonymously, by someone who calls himself Tim Popper (Timid Popper in the forums where he, occasionally, posts). It's not a long book at 132 pages, but it seems to be just long enough for the story. I think it's worth a look.
If you like it, do the author a favor and rate it on Amazon or at least post a comment in his blog. Being an author, especially in a narrow niche like this one, can be really lonely. It's like sending your baby out into the world and holding your breath to see what the world thinks.
Even if you don't like it, give him some feedback. Maybe he'll write more.
(And by the way, I've noticed that none of you has commented on this blog either. What does a guy have to do, post something really insulting? Just sayin'!)
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)