So, at what point in our lives does this fetish craving thing take flight? I mean, I don’t want to turn this into a science blog or anything like that (unless it’s anatomy :b ), but we’ve probably all heard of the nature vs. nurture argument. That is, what roles do genetics and environment play in our development? A rather funny incident occurred to me today to make this debate the focus of my current thought processes. As always, I thought I’d share. Plus, it’s a mall story. Those are always good for a laugh.
So, I’m at the mall, taking in all the sights that a Yuletide mall binge can offer…and looking for any seasonal sales on gags and paddles. Sadly, my wish for the last minute arrival of a Gag and Paddle Warehouse that I so desperately would like to see open up next to a Claire’s Boutique had not yet happened. But, I decided to look for some last minute gift ideas anyway.
On the way to the escalator, I passed through the food court area. I decided to stop at one of the places to get a quick beverage. It was right around meal time and the place was pretty packed. So, wanting only a drink,  I looked for the shortest line and made my way over to the counter. As I waited to order, I heard, above the din of the crowd, the loud shrill voice of a young boy. He was screaming bloody murder. As I looked in the direction of the ruckus, I saw him. He was all of four or five years old. His mom was leaning over the table towards him with a menacing look on her face. She was obviously scolding the boy as she had grabbed his arm and was applying pressure firmly as she spoke directly to him. I couldn’t hear what she was saying because she was trying not to disturb any of the others seated at tables near her. Plus, the crying and carrying-on of the boy drowned out anything I might have been able to detect.
Despite all her efforts, her pleading, and her threats, the boy had made up his mind that, whatever the situation was, the whole thing was going to go down as he saw fit and not as his mother did. Having had enough of the boy’s wailing and feeling a bit embarrassed about the scene they were creating, the mom decided enough was enough and began to pick up all of her belongings, telling the boy they were going home. Well, to the boy, going home was worse than the scolding and the boy began to cry even louder for just a moment before screaming that he wasn’t going to leave the table.
The boy’s mom began the inevitable countdown from 10 and the boy’s whimpers ebbed and flowed with every number that she uttered. When she had reached one and the boy refused to get out of his chair, the mom walked over, grabbed him by the arm and dragged him from his perch. At that point, the boy, still armed with a fistful of now cold and limp french fries, hurled them onto the floor.Â
Her patience completely exhausted, the boy’s mom spun him around and raised her hand. I knew what was coming as did every other onlooker. As her open hand lowered and connected with the boy’s backside, everyone in the food court braced for one last massive crying fit before the both of them would disappear out the door and into the parking lot. It was at that point that the unexpected happened.
The crying fit never came. Almost instantly, the boy turned the faucet off and went dead silent. In fact, the boy seemed quite content with what had just happened. I would even go so far as to say, as crazy as it seems, that he actually enjoyed getting spanked! I can’t prove this of course, but seeing the near cheshire grin on his face as his mom led him out the door, drove me to that conclusion. It was at that point when the whole idea of fetishes and when they develop popped into my head.
I don’t know how it works really. I don’t know when or how someone develops a taste for pain, or for pleasure. I don’t know why some prefer leather or some lace. I don’t know why some crave whips while others adore chains. But, seeing that incident at the mall makes me think that a lot of what we are and what we like is already there from the beginning. And, if we are born with these tendencies already there, then why do so many of us try to suppress our fetishist desires? If it is a part of us and it is who we are, then shouldn’t it be embraced? Food for thought.Â
I’d like to hear what some of you think about it.      Â
Â