The Nightmare...

The objects of an fetish and/or obsession

Fetish: an object or bodily part whose real or fantasied presence is psychologically necessary for sexual gratification and that is an object of fixation to the extent that it may interfere with complete sexual expression.

Obsession: a persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable idea or feeling.

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In the days since I have been back home, I have struggled as to how to tell this story, to give myself some distance and perspective and it's not been easy.  It's all still too disturbing to me, too painful...but there is a need to tell it...to make some sense out of something that I don't understand. 

I never expected what happened to happen...I'd  heard of people fantasizing, and was aware of such things as fetishes and obsessions...but nothing prepared me for what lay ahead. I admit, at first I was curious...however, when it came to having it shoved down my throat or get verbally and mentally abused...curiosity turned to anger which in turn caused arguments that were never won. There was no compromise for either side. 

He first described his fascination with shoes as a fetish...he liked women's high heel shoes...the higher the better.  It didn't matter whether they were shoes, sandals or boots; and he loves all kinds of heel styles...be it chunky or stilettos preferably with no less than a 4 inch heel. He just loves women's shoes...preferably though...those which were retro 1970s and platforms. 

So, okay...he likes women's shoes.  No biggy...I could accept that.

Imagine my surprise to find out he had been buying and collecting them for who knows how long, and had several dozens.  In all styles and sizes...stashed away out of sight. Some had been well worn, others were new...and none of them were anything I would have chose to wear at any time in my life. 

He would have me try various styles on, in sizes that were one to two sizes too big, asking me to walk in them...proceeded by the continual question "How do they feel?"  My answer was always the same...they were too high, too big, very uncomfortable, etc.  My answers would always upset him...even though I had previously, and continuously told him that I don't wear any kinds of heels, I have P.A.D. and suffer all the time with numbness, pain and burning in my feet.

Despite knowing that, he wanted me to wear them 2-3 hours a day...or all day, if I'd consent. To do housework, to help clean in the garage, and even to go to the store in.  My answer, always was the same:  "Absolutely not!"

This wasn't about looking nice or feminine...it was the only, singular way that he could get turned on. He said it was my weight in the shoes, the weight that the heels had to carry, and the ground beneath them which supported me in those shoes. THAT is what the turn on was...it had extremely little to do with me, as a woman.

This...I did not understand...and the whole shoe issue evolved into his wanting me to trust him, that he wanted to "change" me and mold me into someone who I am not.  Thus...the arguments...which in turn soured the whole relationship.

Every single day, it was the same thing...over and over...his whining and begging me to wear them and my telling him "No."  It got old quick...and at the end of two weeks, I knew it was time to go home.  

This wasn't "just" a fetish, it was an obsession...one that I could not and would not live with. I wasn't there because he truly loved me as a person, as a woman, but loved me only for what I could or might do for him. That being, wearing the shoes so that he, alone, could attain sexual satisfaction...as he thought about and stared at the shoes as they sat on his chest. 

At one point, he accused me of being 'jealous' of the shoes, or trying to 'compete' with them...totally missing the point that he was messing with my womanhood, making me feel totally inadequate as a woman because I couldn't do for him what those damned shoes could. I gave up trying to make him see my point...he was blinded by this fetish-come-obsession, blinded by his own selfishness.

I know that I am not to blame, that I am not the one with the problem. I also know that despite all I have been through, I was strong enough to protect myself and all I have achieved since my breakdown in 2001. I've come too far and know I still have a ways to go...but I will NOT let someone else change me. 

I'm learning to like who I am...and maybe even love myself a little too.

Thanks for reading.