I am a 32M straight SG guy but I secretly collect Barbie dolls. I just want to play with them.
Anonymous account because my friends and NS kakis browse here. If they find out, I confirm will get disowned and laughed at until I die.
I need to get this off my chest because it’s eating me alive. I am a 100% straight guy. I like women, I watch normal things, I am working a regular corporate job in Tanjong Pagar. But I have a secret that nobody—not even my parents or my ex-girlfriend—knows.
I am absolutely obsessed with Barbie dolls. And not just collecting them in boxes. I play with them.
It started during Circuit Breaker. I was lonely and bored, and I saw this vintage 1990s Barbie Peaches ‘N Cream on Carousell. Something just clicked in my brain. I bought it, and when it arrived, the feeling of unboxing her was like a drug.
Now, I have over 40 dolls hidden in my room. I bought a locked IKEA cabinet and told my mom it’s for “expensive camera gear” so she cannot touch it.
Every night after work, I lock my room door, turn off the main lights, and turn on one small desk lamp. I bring them out. I don’t just look at them, guys. I spend hours brushing their synthetic hair. I like the sound it makes—shhh, shhh. If a single strand falls out, I get this intense spike of anxiety and I have to save the hair in a small ziplock bag.
I buy dynamic action figure stands so I can pose them in “living room” scenarios on my bed. Sometimes I will sit on the floor and just stare at them for an hour, making small adjustments to their fingers or the tilt of their heads so they look like they are talking to each other. I even bought a mini perfume spray from Shopee to spray on them so they smell like vanilla and plastic.
The weirdest part? I talk to them. Not in a normal way. I whisper to them. I will tell them about my toxic boss, or how MRT was delayed, and then I will move their little plastic arms to pretend they are comforting me. I feel like they understand me better than anyone in Singapore. They don’t judge, they don’t ask for BTO, they just stare back with those perfect, unblinking blue eyes.
Last month, my ex-girlfriend almost caught me. She came over unexpectedly and I had to shove my Limited Edition Holiday Barbie under my pillow. The whole night we were watching Netflix, I could feel Barbie’s hard plastic face pressing against my back through the pillow. It gave me this weird, intense rush. I couldn’t even focus on my ex. That’s actually why we broke up last week—she said I was “spiritually absent” and emotionally cold. She doesn’t know my heart belongs to a colony of 11.5-inch plastic women.
I know how this sounds. It sounds sick. It sounds like some serial killer behavior. My hands are literally shaking while typing this because I know if anyone in real life sees this, I am finished.
But I swear to God I am straight. I don’t want to be Barbie. I just want to control them, dress them up, and keep them clean and safe in my room forever.
Am I crazy? Does anyone else do this? Please tell me I’m not the only one.