This week, we’ve been trying to potty train our toddler.
I know, I know, you’re all: WTF, Ckazaal? I come to you for insightful commentary on sexual taboo. And hot porn links. And you give me this word, “potty.” That word does not belong on any adult website! Where are the hot porn links?!
Chill out, dude. I’m getting to that.
I figure, if Heather Armstrong can talk about penises and porn on her mommyblog, then I think I have every right to mention the utter torment of toilet training on my sex blog. In is out, flip is flop, straight is gay and comparing myself with Heather Armstrong is not a laughable concept in this topsy turvy universe! So: because of this Herculean challenge I’ve undertaken with my child, I’ve been thinking about urine. A lot.
Okay, come a little closer. I feel we’ve gotten to know one another pretty well over the past few months. I’m not sure I’d lend you any cash, but I feel comfortable enough to divulge to you one of my many secret kinks: piss.
I’ve never actually participated in a golden shower before, and quite likely it’s one of those things that needs to stay firmly planted in my fantasy life. To be honest, urophagia in the real world sets off my gag reflex. But the idea of a person addressing the needs of his bladder onto another human being does get the juices flowing. It’s part of my humiliation fetish, certainly, and I enjoy the aspects of D/s territorial marking as well. Or I did.
Because this week may have killed that kink in me. Bludgeoned it to death. Chopped off its head and shat in the bloody stump of a neck that was left. Right now, the very concept of voiding one’s bladder just… well, pisses me off. It doesn’t seem like people would continue to breed if it was always this hard. I feel like if I have to say “Puh-leeease make pee-pee in the potty” one more time I’ll start punching pregnant women in the face, shouting, “Is this what you want? IS THIS WHAT YOU WERE HOPING FOR?”
Sigh.
I’m assured again and again that the kid’s resistance to the process is perfectly normal, and that a breakthrough is undoubtedly forthcoming. Maybe in a few years I’ll look back on this folly and have a private little chuckle. Maybe it’ll turn out that, like a soap opera character long thought dead who turns out to have had miraculous head-reattachment surgery and has only been languishing in a coma all these years, my kink will return.
Maybe.