What We Don't Talk About

There are desires you can't explain. Not because they're too complex, but because they don't belong to the language we've been given. Golden shower is exactly that kind of desire for me. Something that draws me in more intensely than "ordinary sex", yet something I can't easily place within familiar frameworks of arousal, identity, or role.

I only know one thing: I can't ignore it, and I no longer want to be ashamed of it.

In a world where sexuality is often divided into acceptable and unacceptable, golden shower almost automatically falls into the latter category. Without nuance. Without questions. Without any attempt at understanding. As if its very existence threatens someone's order.

But maybe that's precisely the problem.

When Arousal Doesn't Ask for Explanation

For a long time, I tried to find a "reason" why this attracts me. As if, by rationalising it, it would become less problematic. Is it about intimacy? Trust? Crossing a boundary? Or the fact that it's something society instinctively rejects?

Honestly – I don't have a definitive answer.

I only know that golden shower arouses me more powerfully than many things considered "normal." It's enough for the act to happen, in various forms, for me to feel intense excitement and even reach orgasm, without any conventional sexual intercourse. For me, it's not an addition to sex. It's an experience in itself.

Maybe that's exactly why it causes such discomfort in others. Because it can't easily be explained, justified, or dressed up in a romantic narrative.

The First "Yes"

My first experience with the golden shower fetish was, surprisingly, beautiful. It happened at Ada, in the cruising area. I'm usually reserved, cautious, often closed off when it comes to physical contact with strangers. But that moment, when a younger, skinny guy approached me – someone I found intensely attractive – and simply asked if he could piss on me, I didn't hesitate.

I said "yes" without any internal debate.

There was no drama. No theatricality. Just consent. Just a moment where two desires aligned without needing further explanation.

I've often returned to that moment since, not because of the act itself, but because of the feeling that accompanied it: the complete absence of shame. As if someone had briefly switched off the internal censor constantly checking what's "okay" and what isn't.

Maybe that's what actually draws me in.

A Fetish of Trust, Not Degradation

One of the biggest misconceptions about the golden shower fetish is that it's about humiliation or degradation. For me, that's never been the case. Quite the opposite – there's something deeply intimate in that experience.

Golden shower requires trust. It can't happen without clear consent, without reading the other person, without presence. It's not an act that happens mechanically. It demands a connection, however brief.

In that sense, it's the opposite of anonymity. The opposite of distance. The opposite of sterility.

Maybe that's why it's so unsettling: because it reveals how much our boundaries are often socially conditioned rather than personal.

Why Is This Particular Thing Taboo?

Every society has its taboos. They're not random – they protect a certain order. Golden shower touches several key points: bodily fluids, control, cleanliness, hierarchy. Everything culture tries to sweep under the rug.

We're taught that the body is something to be controlled, that certain functions should be hidden, that sexuality is acceptable only if it's "clean", aesthetically pleasing, and easily packaged. Anything that deviates from that is quickly labelled perverse.

But what if the problem lies in the very definition of "clean"?

Golden shower doesn't offer aesthetics. It doesn't offer romance. It doesn't offer a story easily shared on social media. It offers the raw reality of the body. And maybe that's what scares us most.

Sexuality Without Performance

Like with the chastity cage, there's an element here of rejecting performance. Golden shower isn't something that "looks good." It can't easily be faked. It can't be turned into an image you want others to see.

In that sense, it's almost anti-performative. Freed from the gaze of an audience. Freed from the need to be appealing.

For me, that's part of its appeal.

In a world where even intimacy is often curated, filtered, and tailored to expectations, golden shower remains an experience that can't easily be controlled. And maybe that's exactly why it holds such power.

Alone With Myself

Over time, I've also found ways to explore this fetish alone, without a partner. I have my own equipment, my own rituals. That experience isn't a substitute for contact with another person, but it is a way to stay in touch with my own desire.

That matters to me.

Because desire that's constantly suppressed doesn't disappear – it just turns into shame. And shame, in the long run, destroys your relationship with yourself.

Hard to Find Like-Minded People

One reality of this fetish is isolation. It's very difficult to find people who share it. Even harder to find those willing to talk about it openly, without irony or detachment.

But that doesn't mean we don't exist. It just means we've been taught to stay silent.

Maybe the world would be less hostile to difference if we understood that taboo doesn't mean absence of desire – it means absence of language.

I'm Not Seeking Justification

I'm not writing this column to normalise golden shower. I'm not writing to seek understanding either. I'm writing because I believe the right to your own desire is a fundamental form of freedom – as long as it's based on consent, respect, and awareness.

Maybe you don't need to understand what attracts me. But maybe you can understand why it's important to talk about it.

Because as long as some desires remain unspoken, they'll always carry the weight of shame that doesn't belong to them.

And I'm tired of carrying other people's taboos.