Thursday, June 4, 2009

Slowly Strolling In The Sweet Sunshine

My wife and I were strolling the streets of the Upper West Side this past weekend and happened upon a window in a local thrift store. This hand-me-down emporium has some pretty high end stuff and always has enticing displays. This occassion did not disappoint. There among the Stickley reproduction, Tibetan throw rug, and Mary Quant style, Sixties-vintage mini-skirt on the deco model, was a gorgeous pair of shiny purple, six-inch spike heels. Sleek pumps with some maribou on the sexy peek toes. I couldn't help myself.

"Nice shoes!", I blurt enthusiastically.

"Oh sure", she snarls. "You would say that."

Big mistake my sharing.

"I know you've suffered deep, unresolved trauma and have to create fetish objects instead of building real intimacy," she starts. "But I've had it. I'm not putting up with it anymore. My shrink has sent me articles that show just how completely damaged and fucked up you are. I know it's not your fault, but I'm just not going to put up with this anymore."

Oy, it was just a paira shoes! I nodded and said I understood.

"Look, I know you're angry and you have every right to be.", I snapped. "But do me a favor. Spare me the value judgement."

A Sunday stroll on Columbo turns into a referendum on Advo's sexuality. My wife and her shrink, our former couples therapist, partner up with the weight of scholarly opinion to searingly brand me - intimacy impotent. The cause? Shoe fetishism.

Okay, I tell you. These shoes were hot. I thought that if I sweet talked 'em just right they might agree to take me home with them - and walk all over me. Just maybe, if I was on a roll and particularly charming, they'd let me lick their vintage soles. Inhale their delicate insteps. Oh isn't she right? Aren't I just so much more comfortable with visions of lovingly soaked and sewn uppers tacked to a luscious last?

But things didn't escalate there on the Avenue as they have so often in the past. Rather than an indictment of what turns my crank, she was the wounded one. Her vitriol interpreted said, "If I won't wear those shoes, you must not be attracted to me." Heartbreaking, really.

I'm a submissive fetishist. She's not a dominant Louboutin wearer. But I'm good with that. The conflict just evaporated and we walked on together, chatting amiably. But I know there's intimacy in what I long after. Nasty, hot, and true. Those shoes fit the feet of a lovely Cinderella domme. She gets me - and loves me for my longings - because she aches to go there too.

So maybe I'll wander through these streets, where bright lights and angels meet. Look ... a new pair of shoes!


Ally said...

It appears you live a life surrounded by landmines.

You're seeking a different kind of intimacy and too many people make different synonymous with wrong.


Her Majesty's Plaything said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Her Majesty's Plaything said...

Ha ha ha! I loved that post Advo! You and I are wired so similarly that it's kinda scary sometimes! :-P

I would have done exactly the same thing you did. I would have stopped, stared and blurted out; "Look at those beautiful shoes!" Good for you that you have courage of your convictions and are not ashamed of your pervy inclinations!!! (I found your description of the shoes making you lick their instep and walking all over you very hot btw!!! :-p)

My Queen (though she almost never wears high heels) would have pointed out the shoes to me if I had missed them somehow. She would have said; "Oooh! Did you see those shoes? I know you like those don't you!" Nod nod, wink wink say no more! :-p That's not exactly the same thing as buying them, wearing them home and making me lick them clean upon arrival but at least she wouldn't look at me with abject horror and blame my fetish for every failure in our relationship. Even if someone doesn't totally share your kinks it really helps if they can at least accept them and find them slightly endearing. I find it's really essential that the people I love most in life accept me for who I am. Without that there really isn't much common ground to speak of.

A friend of mine suggested I try couples therapy when Her Majesty and I had troubles in the past. Your post reminded me once again why I didn't think it was such a great idea and I am very glad I didn't take the bait!

P.S. Sorry about the deleted post. I found a typo so I redid it. I am very anal about that type of thing! ;-)

advochasty said...

Ally -

Yes! I often feel I'm in a minefield with a detector which goes on the fritz!

I'm hoping to avoid the shrapnel. Flesh wounds, no problemo. Looking to avoid loss of limb though.

Different, no doubt. The wife and I used to play. She had handcuffs when I met her. Her negative judgement is wrapped up in what she perceives to be humiliation and rejection. Someone has to be wrong. We can't just have grown too different, one from the other.

I can be the wrong one. It's okay if it makes it easier and more amicable.

advochasty said...


I'd totally take her finding my kinks endearing without wanting to participate.

I'm actually okay with her having to make me wrong. I totally understand. It hurts her to the core to have me love those shoes because she'd never own them and thus feels I reject her. I get it.

It makes me sad. All I can do is work at accepting things as they are.

I totally understand about typos. I do multiple previews, spell checks on Word ... what? me compulsive?

Her Majesty's Plaything said...

"I'm actually okay with her having to make me wrong. I totally understand. It hurts her to the core to have me love those shoes because she'd never own them and thus feels I reject her. I get it."


This shows deep sensitivity and understanding on your part. Unfortunately we cannot change our inclinations because they run too deep and we are simply wired this way. Those who love us have pretty much one of two choices; get on board or get out of the way. It must seem very unfair to them sometimes.

My Queen and I went through a period where we didn't play for a long time. During that time she also started to slip into thinking my inclinations were "sick", that I had a choice about my orientation and that if I stopped surfing D/s porn I would change (as if my subbie/maso orientation could have been created by outside stimuli). It took me seeing a pro and our marriage practically falling apart for her to realize that this is me and I am never going to change. After that she started down the road of acceptance and we started to come up with new ways of working D/s into our marriage in a positive way.

advochasty said...

I think my wife would need a particularly high powered GPS navigational device to find her way to the Road To Acceptance right now.

But I think I've found that road, which is a comfort even in the face of such sadness.

Maitresse S said...

What did she mean with "I'm not goig to take it anymore"? I was waiting for a "here are the divorce papers" to follow.

I mean, she can't change you. I think she knows that too. Which makes her feel powerless in this relationship and there by lashing out.

I can feel the tension that must have been there on that street. That must stay with you guys in those quiet, honest moments. I remember it in the last dying days of my own marriage.

I am sorry, you have to go through this. But just remember, while they may not be the ideal ones....we all do have choice.

Looking forward to seeing you this week!


Volond said...

I feel your pain!

Sometimes, after I have similar situations with my wife, I can't help but wonder: "Would it be so hard to just buy the f'ing shoes... for you, for me?? Its not like you have to run a marathon in them - just wear them every now and then to make me happy."

But noooo! Every such conversation takes on a much bigger meaning - "the lack of respect for women," "that she is more than just a pair of feet to attach shoes to" (although she does admit she has nice feet), and my favorite: "What's wrong with you? Should it really matter what I wear?"

Indeed - what is wrong!

I hear you man! Good luck with the "road to acceptance."

Her Majesty's Plaything said...

Wow! After reading through this thread again and reading Volond's comments I am reminded how lucky I am. This weekend my Queen and her sister went shoe shopping. When they returned home with their purchases I made them both coffee and we sat around talking. My Queen asked if I wanted to see their purchases.

I said; "Gee what do I know about that kind of stuff" and gave my Queen a sly little wink.

"You love ladies shoes" she said in an amused tone of voice that broached no contradiction.

It was a nice moment because she gave me validation of my fetish along with a mild touch of public humiliation! ;-)

Her Majesty's Plaything said...


Is it not strange how our desire to see a woman dressed in certain attire makes her feel we are somehow denigrating her self worth? It speaks of a deep seated insecurity IMHO.

Wow! My word verification is "dante". As in "Dante's Inferno?" Fitting as we do seem to be discussing a very particular circle of hell....

advochasty said...

MS -

She feels very vulnerable. Her anger is just fear, rejection and humiliation in disguise. I've gotten pretty good at catching the escalation before it gets off the charts.

We'll choose trying a separation with the hope that we'd remain close. But it's a choice for better economic times.

Voland -

Thanks, man! You know I've actually tried to seek the sexuality in flannel nightgowns and flats. When the flannel is really soft and worn it has this ... jeez ... snap me outta this will ya!!

Even lots of vanilla women I know love sexy spike heels. Last summer the vanilla wife of a vanilla friend was wearing these insane high heeled sandals I was practically drooling over.

I commented on how hot they were and she said her husband hadn't even noticed them. I think, if the woman is into it some, there's an attentiveness a submissive can bring to a woman's sexuality that ought to be valued and appreciated.

Oh for some more valued appreciation.


Yer like a kinky Eddie Haskell.

"Oh, Mrs. Cleaver, what nice shoes you're wearing tonight. Does Theodore tongue shine them for you or shall I?"

I think some women don't like heels because they hurt their feet. Some don't like them because it's PC not to like them. Some are insecure. Some just like Birkenstocks.

If I start trying to develop a fetish for Birkenstocks - shoot me.

Her Majesty's Plaything said...

"Oh, Mrs. Cleaver, what nice shoes you're wearing tonight. Does Theodore tongue shine them for you or shall I?"

Hahahahahaha!!!! Oh man! Now that I've read the script I have to see the movie! A kinky Eddie Haskell?? I love it!!!!! ;-)

Aarkey said...

I don't know how else to say this, but your wife sounds like a real poopiehead. And her therapist sounds like someone stuck back in the 1950s of mental health.

I'm sorry you have to deal with that.

advochasty said...

In fairness, I get the shrink's position filtered through my wife. However, I don't think the shrink is particularly kink-friendly to say the least. After all, I did spend two years with her.

As long as I can keep in focus that my wife's anger is born of fear, rejection, humiliation, and sadness I'm okay. But ultimately, dealing with the blow-ups takes its toll.

I'm sure I'm tilting the tables a bit my way too. After all, it is my blog. ;-)

Thanks for the supportive words.

Aarkey said...

Yah well... forgivable and maybe even understandable, fine... but she's still a poopiehead.


WTF kind of silly word is that?

advochasty said...

Aarkey -

I sucretly lust after that woman in the six inch purple peek toes. She's wearing dark red lipstick - one hand on her hip and the other flicking the ash from her Virginia Slim. :-P