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“ I can only achieve orgasm defecating in a diaper,” Jason*, my college boyfriend, said as he sat on my dorm room bed.
I had considered myself an open-minded person. I thought your heart told you whom to love, and I thought sexual fetishes were healthy. This statement rocked my belief.
Jason and I had only been dating for a few months when he told me this. We were having trouble in the bedroom. Sex was flat, boring, and he could never reach orgasm. I had had several sexual partners in the past, and was fairly confident with my skills. One day I decided to confront the situation.
I sat him down on my bed and ask him if he had any desires or fetishes that maybe we could try. He said he didn’t, but I could tell he was lying. I pulled up a list of fetishes online and asked him to see if any interested him. He glanced over the list fast, and looked up at me.
He looked like he was struggling and asked me if anything “weird” turned me on. I said nothing weird, but I’m open to trying anything once.
“Anything?” he quickly responded.
I started getting nervous. I thought he might say something like eating feces. I wasn’t that far off.
He asked me to read the list and pick three that I hope he didn’t want. I looked down the list and said “infantilism.” He instantly asked why I picked it. I explained because having sex with infants is disgusting. Anyone who desired that deserves to be in jail.
“That’s not what it is,” he blurted out. I knew I had picked the right one. Rushing through my head was something like: Be open-minded… Oh God he touches children… I’m dating a pedophile… let him explain…
“What is it?” I said with the calmest voice I could find. He took the computer from me and pulled up a website. We sat in silence as I read over every last word. It talked about adults dressing up like babies. Some liked to look at pictures of people in diapers, some hired nannies to babysit them, and some defecated in diapers. This was a lot of information to take in.
“You want to be a baby?” I finally said.
“No, that’s ridiculous. I just like shitting in diapers and looking at people wearing them. It’s very different. People who want to be babies are weirdos,” he said.
“You look at who in diapers? Men, women?” I remember hoping he was gay, and this was a big misdirection before coming out.
“Both, it’s not about the person. It’s about the diaper.”
He continued to explain he didn’t know why he felt like that, but always had. He sometimes wore diapers in public, and he got a rush being near his friends. He kept saying that if I was open minded I would understand. I felt guilty, and ashamed that I wasn’t being more accepting. If I could accept other fetishes, why couldn’t I accept this one? I told him I needed time to process, but we were fine.
Days went by and I spent all my free time researching diaper fetishes. I felt if I had more information than I could understand. I kept trying to convince myself he wasn’t attracted to children.
All my research supported his assertion that the fetish had nothing to do with an actual child, but I didn’t understand how it couldn’t. We had numerous conversations about it, but he couldn’t help me understand.
I decided to force myself to be OK with it. I told him that it was his thing, I respected him and his right to be into whatever he was into, but I could not participate in it. He agreed that was acceptable.
Time went on, but every time we had sex I wondered if he was thinking of babies. One day I decided to hop on an adult baby chat room and see if someone would answer some questions.
I was first met with some serious backlash. I guess these chat rooms were frequently flooded with people spreading hate, and they were guarded. Eventually, a man said he would answer my questions.
He explained his wife had left him when he told her about his fetish. He respected the fact I was trying to understand. He patiently answered my questions, and basically explained that my boyfriend probably didn’t want to have those feelings. There is a sense of shame that goes with having a desire that isn’t mainstream. My concerns were normal, but I had to watch that I didn’t make him feel abnormal because of them.
That night, I sat Jason down and told him he could go outside the relationship to satisfy his sexual needs. He had previously mentioned groups that met to sit together in diapers and do everyday stuff; watch movies, dinner, etc.
Jason was not the type of guy to have limits placed upon him. He took my acceptance as an open door and started demanding I take part in the diaper wearing. I always refused. He would ask me to come over, and when I arrived he would be wearing a diaper. I started to feel really awkward.
He always wanted to go out drinking, and being a typical college student I drank more than I should have. When we would get to his place, he would try to force me into participating while my judgment was impaired. I would fight against it. I was trying to respect his needs, but he didn’t care about mine.
He started to degrade me, and say I was a bad person because I wasn’t trying to understand him. He started to threaten me by saying either I participate, or he would spread rumors that it was my fetish. I now think that he was just projecting his insecurities on me. He probably thought if he could get me to do it, then we both would be “ weirdoes.”
I eventually broke it off with Jason. Not because of the diaper fetish, but because of the manipulation. For a year after we broke up, he would call me and threaten to commit suicide. He said I was the only one he could trust with his secret and because of the shame I had caused him, he didn’t want to live. I felt I deserved all the bad things he would say to me, because I must be an awful person.
Years later I bumped into him, and asked how he was. He said he was great, and had been dating a girl for a year. He said they were perfect for each other, and that they shared everything. I don’t know why I said it, but I said “ Everything?”
He said “No, not everything”, and walked away from me.
It took some time, but I learned that it was OK if I wasn’t instantly accepting with everything in the world. I learned being open-minded doesn’t necessary mean you are ready to march in the parade, but that you are willing to give things the honest thought they deserve.