I confess. He suffered from a rare condition known as uniform fetishism. My uniform fetishism was sexual in nature. Uniform fetishism is a sexual fetishism in which an individual is sexually aroused by uniforms. Yes, you read that right, a uniform can help in sexual matters. Well, he did it for me. But that doesn’t make me an idiot. All I am advocating is that all human beings in their diversity should be able to explore our rights of desire to the extent necessary without hindrance.
It should be noted that the academic literature on uniforms as a fetish is scarce. Generally, the most common uniforms in the uniform fetish category include those of a police officer, a prison warden, a soldier, a schoolgirl, and a nurse.
Sociologists describe uniform fetishism as someone who derives sexual pleasure from seeing others dressed in the typical uniform. In my case, my irrational obsession was with the South African Police Service (SAPS) uniform worn by women. And, for me, it was also directly related to the presence of a firearm.
Dr. Dinesh Bhugra and Dr. Padmal De Silva are one of the few researchers who have studied this phenomenon. Her 1996 article analyzed the function of uniforms and their relationship to sexual fantasy and sexual fetishism. They noted that uniforms can be seen as ‘outer skins’ that can be material and sexually attractive, and that they can allow people to display and exercise power. Bhugra and Da Silva described the functions of the uniforms as part of the ‘five Fs’ (formal, fashion, fun, fantasy and fetish).
For me, I have something singularly puzzling about women in blue. I wanted to sleep with an armed woman dressed in the South African police uniform. I know it’s crazy, but listen to me. My wish does not make me a masochist. I do not have deviant sexual behavior, therefore I do not associate the police uniform with punishment or torture as part of sexual pleasure.
My fetish for women in blue has a long-standing condition. I realized this in the early nineties. The more women joined the police service, the worse my condition just got. In some ways, I felt like a sexual deviant, but realized that I am not. In any case, many forms of sociologically deviant behavior are not sanctioned by law, so I am not a sex criminal either.
My sexual fetish in the uniform reached its climax in 1999 when I finally dated a cop. Yes, I once fell in love with a woman to the point that she was wearing a police uniform and brandishing a gun. I must admit. She was not my type of girl. He was short, a little plump, and fair in complexion. As readers of this column know, I prefer my tall, slender, yellow-boned women.
For this particular woman, I’m sure I wasn’t more sexually attracted to her than she was in the police uniform. Let’s put it this way, I was sexually attracted to the point that I was a police officer wearing a uniform and carrying a gun. Our “love story,” if you can call it that, was short-lived. We had fun while it lasted. I had to shorten it because my uniform fetishism was wearing thin. She was an emotional being who needed emotional arousal beyond her profession. I couldn’t be there for her emotionally. I didn’t like her.
In fact, I was interested in her to the point where she was only allowed to come see me during work hours and, wait, she had to dress in full police uniform and have the gun in her holster. As part of our game, my job was to take her apart and undress her so I could do whatever I wanted with her. Clearly, this was not sustainable at least for her. For me, it was like having your own cake and eating it too. I had the best time of my life. I never revealed my uniform fetish status to him. She really believed that she was romantically attracted to me. Poor thing!
Our relationship ended abruptly. In his mind he had fallen in love with me. However, for her to be safe, I had to pass an emotional test. She had manna from heaven when in one of our sexual encounters there was an incident where the condom broke. Obviously after the fact we had to get an emergency contraceptive pill that allowed us to play, “partner.” Weeks later she told me she was pregnant. He also asked that we both get tested for HIV / AIDS. However, every time we had an appointment to test, she would not pitch. Any meeting with her had become cumbersome, as he threatened to kill himself if he found out that he had infected her with HIV / AIDS.
A month later, in a strange confession, he admitted that he had just played with my mind. She was not HIV / AIDS positive, pregnant, or suicidal. “I just wanted to see if you love me,” he said. For me, during this period, I was in a panic because I feared that I had contracted sexually transmitted diseases, especially HIV / AIDS. Although I was relieved that she wasn’t pregnant, I couldn’t forgive her for putting me through the emotional roller coaster just to see if I loved her enough. The fact is, he was not in love with her, but with her police uniform. After this episode, my condition was cured somehow. Now I see policewomen as women, not just objects of desire.