I'm steering away from my usual fascination with the morbid underbelly/criminal element today. I've discovered something new which has me marvelously baffled.
Have you ever heard of Adult Baby Fetish.
(I bet you a dollar my traffic skyrockets with that single phrase.)
Grown men (and I guess chicks) dress as cartoonish versions of Prohibition-era babies. Often in bonnets with gigantic lollipops and baby rattles, they behave like really feminine babies. Some even wear AND USE diapers, and enjoy getting changed by their "mommies."
Tim the Trainer and I spent an hour on this subject this morning. At one point, Tim curled himself up in an armchair and hid underneath his jacket, he could no longer handle the visuals. I was literally having a conversation with a man who had a fleece on his head because it was all too much.
And all I can think about is what if I fall madly, madly in love and one day, Mister Wonderful goes, "So, uh, Beth. There's...there's something I guess I should tell you."
At which point I would probably hide inside my clothes and weigh my options. I'd also have a lot of questions. Why the over-sized safety pins? The frilly bonnets? The over-the-top ensemble? No one still living wore that shit as an infant. It's not...accurate.
But for love? True love?
I could probably feed someone mashed peas if there were diamonds in it for me. But changing a diaper? And I'm talking a dirty diaper? On a perfectly capable yet fully developed adult male? I just don't see it happening.
I like to think of myself as a pretty open-minded person, which is an absolute lie. I'm not in the least. But I just don't get it. And most things, I generally get. You say strangling yourself with a tacky belt until you're almost dead is orgasmic? Fine. I'll take your word for it. But shitting your pants amidst ruffles and rattles is just, as Tim put it, lazy...