Part X: Grinch Kinks
New to The Shitpost Diaries? Find part one here. Or keep reading if you're here strictly for some Grinch goodness.
It was Thanksgiving night, 2020. My girlfriend was intent on welcoming the official start to the Christmas season by guzzling an assortment of winter-themed beers and watching Christmas movies. We were deciding what to watch. As always, her first choice was the Grinch.
Again? I said. There are so many heartwarming Christmas classics. There's Elf. There's Die Hard. There's Olive the Other Reindeer. Why do you always want to watch the Grinch?
I love the Grinch, she said.
Was I dating a child? Whose go-to Christmas movie is the Grinch? Or was I being a Grinch myself by never giving it its fair due? Was I dismissing the Grinch because it didn't fit with my own shallow idea of what a Christmas movie should be?
Let's watch, I said, determined to give it another chance. Maybe by better understanding the Grinch I could better understand my girlfriend. The Grinch spoke to her for a reason, but why?
To my dismay, she put on the 2018 version and there we sat, sipping beers, watching the Grinch go house-to-house with a bulging sack of toys over his shoulder, vacuuming up every last present under every last tree. I looked over at my girlfriend, her eyes sparkling like a Christmas tree in the night as she watched the Grinch commit several felonies.
And then, out of nowhere, a thought crossed my mind: what if my girlfriend didn't identify with the Grinch at all? What if it wasn't about alienation or loneliness or even redemption?
What if it was about something deeper, something far more raw and animalistic, something truly Freudian?
I have a Grinch fetish. My boyfriend knows about this and for the most part accepts it. He isn't crazy about it and doesn't really get it but he at least tries which is all I ask. He'll sometimes read the book to me to set the mood, or if he's really feeling kinky tell me "You're a mean one" in the heat of the moment. He's even begrudgingly come around to at least playing one of the three versions of the film every time we do the deed (although we tend to stay away from the live-action one because it's too much for me).
The thing is, I don't want to hear about the Grinch or listen to the Grinch or watch the Grinch. I want to be fucked by the Grinch. And for the record this is common among women. The Grinch's bulging sack of toys to me (and many others) is what a Mack truck is to Cardi B. The fact that he's good with dogs and experienced trauma at a young age makes me want that long, fuzzy dick even more.
My boyfriend asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I told him straight up. I told him to put on the greenest, silkiest Grinch costume he could find, kidnap me from my bed on Christmas Eve, and then ravage me in front of the Christmas tree.
He flat out refused. Said it was too weird for him. I was literally begging this man to let this pussy save Christmas and he was like nah, I'm good. It ended up turning into a fight where he admitted he only gave into my initial Grinch kinks to placate me and was still uncomfortable about the fact that I had moaned "Grinch" during sex a few weeks ago, but only because his song was playing in the background.
So he's drawn a line. And if I don't drop the Grinch fetish (which as I said is incredibly common among women but sadly taboo) he's done for good. I don't want to lose him over this. But it's really hard for me to see past my sexual proclivities especially during Christmas season. Is there any way we can even compromise on this, or do I simply need a more adventurous man?
This was the first post ever written from the perspective of a woman, and my most successful. Most people took it for the joke that it was, although there were quite a few who came out of the woodwork to question the veracity of my claims.
A poll was even conducted:
Many used the opportunity to stress the importance of consent and boundaries, which does, in fact, extend to Grinch play:
There was some deeper, thought-provoking analysis:
Even prominent members of the fetish community contributed to the discourse:
Perhaps unsurprisingly, there were several hedonists willing to don the green costume in the name of climax.
One even slid into my inbox, proving, once again, that the internet is a far different space for women than men:
Merry Christmas, everybody.