All I can do is watch

I have a friend who is a major S&M buff. When she goes on vacation, she'll go visit an out-of-town dungeon before she'll go see the Grand Canyon or Mount Rushmore. She carries ball gags and medical instruments in the trunk of her car. She met her husband on alt.com. She has always been completely open and upfront about her kink, and I've never heard anyone criticize her or question her morality because of it.

I've had two other friends who were into light bondage – same thing. No judgements, no criticism.

I live in a fairly open-minded, creative enclave of a larger, much more conservative city. People are pretty much live and let live in my neighborhood.

But there's no way in hell I would reveal to any of them that I like watching hot women fight.

Several years ago, there was a mild controversy when a couple of pieces of catfight art were accepted for display in our community's extremely tame, more vanilla than vanilla erotic art show. Light bondage was okay, as was the hint of S&M, but catfights were beyond the limits for many 'open-minded' patrons: 'Catfighting exploits women.' 'Catfighting encourages women to compete, rather than come together as sisters to resist patriarchal oppression.' Etc., etc.

I think part of the problem is that the catfighting kink is by nature voyeuristic, not participatory. I just like to watch; being a man, I can't be directly involved. If your kink is bondage or S&M, you probably have some skin in the game, both literally and figuratively. But as a catfight fan, I'm just an observer, a user, if you will; it's the women who are putting in all the effort.

I think for most men, the ultimate catfight fantasy culminates in them relentlessly fucking the winner, the loser, or both, and that would certainly be participatory. I would personally be in sex heaven to have two girl-next-door types go at it on a California king bed, fighting over which one would get to do me first.

If you're just into tying someone up, or being tied up, at least you have some chance of actually having that happen. I'm more likely to be named Ambassador to the Court of St. James's than to have my fantasy realized in the flesh.

I occasionally see these catfight videos where a group of male spectators are politely watching, with an occasional smattering of soft applause like a golf tournament, and I think, "How can you do that? How can you sit there and watch that, and then, what – go to the coffee shop and have a latte?" Good lord, I'd be sitting there white-knuckled, heart pounding, teeth clenched, so cranked up I'd be about to go crazy, wanting to fuck those women.

I wish I could get hot and bothered over something that I might actually be able to make happen. But, alas, I did not pick my kink. I guess it picked me.