I confess. She 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 with 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 diversities should be allowed 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 scant. In general, the most common uniforms in the fetish uniform category include those of a police officer, prison warden, soldier, schoolgirl, and 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 some of the few researchers who have studied this phenomenon. His 1996 article discussed the role of uniforms and their relationship to sexual fantasy and sexual fetishism. They pointed out that uniforms can be seen as ‘outer skins’ that can be material and sexually attractive, and can allow people to display and exercise power. Bhugra and Da Silva described the functions of uniforms comprising the ‘five F’s (formal, fashion, fun, fancy, and fetish).

For me, there is something uniquely disconcerting about the women in blue. I have had the desire to sleep with an armed woman dressed in the uniform of the South African police. I know she’s crazy, but hear me out. My desire does not make me a masochist. I do not have deviant sexual behavior, so 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 1990s. As more women joined the police service, my condition just got worse. Somehow, I felt like a sexual deviant, but I realized that I wasn’t. In any case, many forms of sociologically deviant behavior are not sanctioned by law, so I am not a sex offender either.

My sexual fetish for uniforms reached a crescendo in 1999 when I finally dated a cop. Yes, I once had a crush on a woman to the point where she was wearing a police uniform and brandishing a gun. I must admit. She was not my type of girl. She was short, a bit chubby, and fair-skinned. As readers of this column know, I prefer my women tall, slender, and yellow-boned.

I’m sure I wasn’t sexually attracted to this particular woman beyond her police uniform. Let’s put it this way, I was sexually attracted to her to the point where she was a police officer wearing a uniform and carrying a gun. Our love affair, if you can call it that, was short-lived. We had fun while it lasted. I had to cut it short because my uniform fetish was wearing thin. She was an emotional being who needed emotional excitement beyond her profession. I couldn’t be there for her emotionally. I was not in it.

In fact, she was interested in her to the point that she was only allowed to come see me during work hours and, wait, she had to be in full police uniform and have her gun in a holster. As part of our game, my job was to disarm and strip her so I could get away with it. 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 genuinely believed that I was romantically attracted to her. poor thing!

Our relationship ended abruptly. In her mind she 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 would allow us to play “couple”. Weeks later she told me that she was pregnant. She also demanded that we both go get tested for HIV/AIDS. However, every time we had a tryout date, she wouldn’t pitch. Any encounter with her had become awkward as he threatened to shoot himself if she found out that he had infected her with HIV/AIDS.

A month later, in a strange confession, he admitted that he had only been messing with my mind. She was not HIV/AIDS positive, nor was she pregnant or suicidal. “I just wanted to see if you love me,” she said. For me, during this period, she was in a panic because she feared she had contracted sexually transmitted diseases, especially HIV/AIDS. While I was relieved that she wasn’t pregnant, I couldn’t forgive her for putting me through the emotional roller coaster ride just to see if he loved her enough. The point is that he was not in love with her, but with her police uniform. After this episode, my condition was somewhat cured. Now I look at policewomen as women, not just objects of desire.