Did y'all know that my husband, Chris, was engaged to a furry before he snagged me?
Don't know what that is?
Well, neither did my parents. I wasn't ever planning on explaining this particular subculture to them, but then Chris and I took them for brunch at this swank hotel restaurant, and we saw this when we walked into the lobby:
Obviously, my folks couldn't help but notice a gigantic dalmatian traipsing around, especially when it tried to hug them. They were also mystified by all the other people parading around wearing an array of ears, tails, and whiskers.
I tried to veer them away from the sign directing all furries to "FurCon" in Ballroom B, but my parents wouldn't shut up about that damn dog. So, Chris did his duty as the worldly son-in-law by conveying what he knew about furries to his Evangelical Christian parents-in-law.
Unfortunately (or gloriously), my parents live in France most of the year and had brought some of their French friends along for this visit, so my husband's explanation of this subculture ended up being a game of translation telephone, with the conversation sounding something like this:
Chris to Dad: "Well, furries are individuals who are drawn to anthropomorphic animals."
Dad to French couple: “Frenchy French French.”
French couple to Dad: "Frenchy Frenchoo?"
Dad to Chris: "Like, they enjoy watching Bugs Bunny or Donald Duck?"
Chris to Dad: "Um, some people, yeah. And others can take it a bit farther."
Dad to French couple: "Frenchy Frencharoo Frenchapoo."
French couple to Dad: "Frenchly?!"
Dad to Chris: "What do you mean?"
Chris to Dad: "Some furries identify with specific animal spirits. And, um, well, the rumor is it that some of the more hard core among the subset like to, um, copulate with other individuals who identify with compatible animal spirits."
Dad to Chris: "What?"
Chris to Dad: "Um, yeah, sometimes, albeit rarely, these people have sex dressed like animals. Or so I've heard. I mean, at least that's what my ex-fiance told me when we broke up because she said she identified as a wolf and that she was more sexually interested in someone with a similar animal spirit."
Dad to Chris: * Jaw drops. *
French couple to Dad: "Whatever translates into, 'What in bloody hell did your son-in-law just tell you?'"
Dad to French couple: "Whatever translates into, 'People dress up like animals and have sex wearing their costumes!'"
French couple to Dad: * Jaws drop. *
Now, I'm fine with people fucking as they see fit. I don't want to be in your bedroom just as much as you shouldn't want to be in mine. If the following image makes you feel like a sly fox in a juicy hen house, then my feathers and/or fur remains unruffled.
Seriously, do your thing.
Furries are probably great people. Most of them are likely normal folk with an appreciation for animal-themed art, while a more vocal minority cluck and fuck loudly enough that society mistakes them as representative of the whole group.
I don't care where you fall on that spectrum. Consenting adults and all that...
I'm calling bullshit on some of y'all.
Everyone's animal spirit is something majestic, like a tiger or a wild stallion. Nobody ever brags that they have the spirit of a naked mole rat or a scrotum frog. Just like we can't all be Benedict Cumberbatch or Emma Watson in real life, we don't all get to be the belles of the animal balls, either.
As for me and my low-self esteem, we're firmly content that my animal spirit would probably be a blobfish.
Or I'd be a mosquito, so I could suck all the life out of those around me and savor every single sip. And, of course, we all know I'd make being a mosquito scrumptious as hell.
Anyway, that's my post for today. I'd planned on crafting a witty ending, but then I got oddly distracted by my Internet image search for "sexy insects." If these pictures of sensual skeeters can be believed, than maybe there's something to this whole furry thing after all...
A few things:
1) I know that in my last post, I promised that I'd dish about my sister, Tawdry Hepburn's, latest drama llama. Welp, I've attempted numerous times to write it, and I always end up crying. I ask that you please be patient until I find enough booze and brownies to power me through that post.
2) I love all my readers. Except for Scott. He told me that Bernie Sanders' ideas are dumb. We're friends no longer, sir!
3) In researching this scholarly blog post, I learned that there is a community of people called "plushies" who get intimate with stuffed animals. Huh.
True story: Life would be super swell if we all embraced our OMG side instead of living a Facebook-friendly existence. So, let it out. Which animal costume would YOU don to get it on? What creature makes your pussy purr? Feel free to disclose details. You're safe here.