My boyfriend is obsessed with his sex dolls.
I wonder if he loves them more than he loves me. He has a room dedicated to his “girls”.
It’s kept permanently locked and he doesn’t think I’ve been inside, but I have.
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A few weeks ago, he was struck down with food poisoning. He rang me begging for bottles of fizzy lemonade and dry toast.
I rushed round to his flat and made him comfortable.
By 2pm he was sound asleep. I noticed that his keys were on his bedside table (usually he keeps them on a chain on his jeans).
I slipped out into the hall and let myself into his secret room.
Turning the lock I felt a brief flicker of guilt, but curiosity got the better of me. I was met by six pairs of dead eyes.
His dolls were propped up around the room in various stages of undress. I played with their hair and stroked them. All were blonde (I’m red-headed) and boasted fabulous, shapely figures (I’m a bit flat-chested).
On a king-sized bed were strewn several sex toys and many tubes of lubrication. I had to steady myself because it was like looking into a nightmarish world of sleaze. I was forced to lock up and leave when a delivery man arrived at the front door.
Now I don’t know what to think. I’m struggling to get my head around this freak show.
The fact that none of his “girls” look anything like me is weird and vaguely insulting. Also, imagining him in that room, pleasuring himself with those piles of plastic, is mind-blowing.
JANE SAYS: Several lines were crossed on the day of your boyfriend’s illness.
Not only did you take his keys and let yourself into a room that he’d deliberately kept private from you, but you touched his stuff and discovered that his doll of choice is a buxom blonde.
Now you are left wondering where you stand, and I can’t say I blame you.
Has your boyfriend ever explained to you why he needs these other sex aids when you are a healthy, happy human? Why aren’t you enough for him?
Many of us have interesting hobbies, but to dedicate a whole room to formed latex and silicone does seem very hardcore.
Obviously, it’s completely up to him what he spends his money on, but this lot must have cost him a pretty penny.
Are you willing to tolerate or compete with his plastic hareem or is this where you decide it’s all too much?
Do you come clean and tell him that you peeked in his room while he was vulnerable and helpless?
My feeling is that you’re not going to be able to get that image out of your mind for a very long time.
If resentment is now going to build, then you need to excuse yourself – and leave him to knock himself out…
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