The Fantasy Business

The guy is asleep, about four feet to my left. He looks so different when he’s sleeping.
We were talking the other night and I told him I would have to start getting up before him for awhile on weekends, so I could write, as it’s really important to me. He understood, naturally, and began narrating, suggesting the above opening line as an opening line. I had different ideas in mind, naturally, but hey… I’m in the fantasy-fulfilling business, you know.
And maybe you don’t know it, but you are, too.
I was reading a certain high-profile sex blog yesterday in which another blog was mentioned, in both a positive and negative manner.* The former blog included a negative mention of the latter’s recent dismissal of her lover’s desire to come on her tits sometimes. The latter told her man he was “acting like an idiot,” and apparently he apologized, saying he was “horrified” with his behaviour.
Yeah. Right. Both myself and the voice of the former blog state that any notion of this guy truly being “horrified” is more hilarious than it is likely.
What is likely, though, is that she managed to, in one simple, fell swoop, dissuade her man from being anything but truly honest with her in the future. She more than likely made him feel like an idiot, though. Shame’s a killer in a relationship, and she’s going to come to regret that, whether she wants to admit it or not. Somewhere down the road, she’s gonna wonder where it all changed. Well, that’s the fulcrum there, baby.
Sex takes all kinds. We’ve all got strange little fantasies, although his wasn’t all that strange, nor really out of the norm at all. Far be it for me to suggest you do anything you’re uncomfortable with, but as far as fantasies go, allowing your guy to shoot his load on your tits isn’t exactly all that invasive.
Personally, I’ve admitted before that I’m not really into the above. Would I shut a lover down for asking? Jesus, no!
Your job, as a lover, is to listen to your partner’s wishes, dreams, and desires. That means, if they have a d-i-r-t-y fantasy, you should be listening to it. Do you have to partake? Absolutely not. But I don’t care if you’re the goddamned Queen of England – you have NO right to ridicule them or mock them for their wishes. Don’t you EVER think otherwise.
Deep down inside, I’ve always had this ridiculously stupid fantasy of having sex in an anti-gravity chamber. Yeah, loverboy and I are cracking the code for NASA and taking a field-trip. Right. (Although there was reportedly a hotel in Paris that offered the services once upon a world, if I recall correctly.) Still, I’ve thought of it more than once. It’s there, on that list, “Things I’ll do if the chance arises.” Mental note made, long, long ago.
Fantasies are what they are, and everybody has the right to them. Shutting down your lover for their wishes is akin to telling your kid they’re too stupid to be an architect. Who in the HELL do you think you are?
Don’t like the idea? Just say no. Tell them you understand why it might get them off, but you’re uncomfortable with performing that act. They’re not insulted, and you’ve made your point known. Peachy.
But in a perfect world, you’d grow the hell up, and realize that most of these things aren’t going to kill you, but they might take your lover to a place they’ve never been before. Now you decide. Do you want to be a selfish person, and just say no all the time, or do you want to explain that it doesn’t do anything for you, but you’re willing to indulge their desires, if it makes them happy, once in a blue moon?
Consider it like one of those strange food cravings we’ve all had: pickles and ice cream, a bacon & peanut butter sandwich, liver and onions. It’s not a regular part of our diet, but once in a frickin’ while you just can’t help yourself. There’s almost this shame behind it. I’m eating bacon with peanut butter. Just like that fat fuck Elvis. Is there a dire future with a toilet in front of me? We’re secretive about it. Guilt, guilt, guilt, baby, but GOD, it feels good.
Now, imagine you’re sitting there, dreaming of this sandwich, and in comes your lover, who’s always stated it’d make him/her ill to have one. And there they are, holding the sandwich with bacon cooked just the way you like it, on the best bread, with the best peanut butter, and they made it themselves. Now, I guarantee you, apart from just satisfying a craving, it’s gonna be the best fucking sammich you ever sank your teeth in. It’s a gift, it’s thoughtful, and completely selfless.
Like fulfilling any fantasy can be.
And let me say another thing: If you lord it over them (“see how generous I am? You owe me, you know,”) then you’re still a lousy lover, don’t kid yourself. It’s not about power or debt or superiority. It’s about just being there in a way that makes your lover feel a little more validated by you.
Hmm. And you know? Mine really does look a little different while he’s sleeping, and it’s time I returned to him.
Listen to your lovers. Indulge them sometimes. Never judge them. Always respect them. Is it really so fucking hard?

*I’d rather not give publicity to her in a negative way. She’s already getting slammed, and if she reads this, she’ll know it’s her.

6 thoughts on “The Fantasy Business

  1. Don

    Right on target; and it was nice of you not to mention the blog by name. We are often unkind to one another at least you spared the writer that shame. Nice post.

  2. myself

    Definitely never a good idea to completely close off the lines of sexual communication by completely denying someone’s fantasy, something I learned as I got older and a bit more adventurous than I had been earlier in life. And Steff, I completely agree about the “lording over”, I’ve known many a woman that would hold things over her husband’s head (I;ll give you a BJ tonight if you do this….). Personally, I look at sex with someone I feel for as a circular sort of action, what I do that makes him feel good, will in turn make me feel good that he feels good and on and on and on and on…and then everyone wins and no one is left out.

    But maybe that’s just me!

  3. Justin

    I’ve read the entries Steff is referring to, and she’s not getting slammed that badly. Still, she seems to need a bit of maturing, despite the nobility of her larger project. Her response to some of the criticism she’s getting is to wonder if the grief is coming from men who can’t perceive the ‘tone’ in which she wrote the entry in question.

    No, it’s because she has yet to learn that men have the same sensitivities as women.

  4. scribe called steff

    Don — Yeah, the anonymity factor behind blogging leads some to be greater dickheads than necessary. I try not to include myself among their company, so thanks for acknowledging that. 🙂

    Myself — No, that shouldn’t just be you. That should be everyone. Know what that’s called? It’s called being mature. It’s called being the kind of lover one should be. It’s called RECIPROCATION. I mean, the things I see and hear people doing sometimes just baffles me.

    Every touch I get, I respond to. It keeps things interesting, rewarding, and always sexual. Nothing is worse than being taken for granted; being responsive and reciprocative means not taking anyone for granted.

    Justin — Yeah, too many women think men are not sensitive. I know I wrote about sensitivity and “how sensitive is too sensitive” and all that, but just because men shouldn’t turn on the waterworks every time there’s a tragic scene in a movie doesn’t mean they deserve to be treated like crap, either.

    “Tone” shouldn’t matter. Telling a guy he’s being a “dork” or “idiot” or “freak” because he wants to shoot his load on her tits makes HER the one who’s not too plugged into reality. Most guys probably have a small fantasy to be that guy. What’s wrong with asking? Nothing. Shooting it down? Wrong.

    The Guy had a good laugh as we laid in bed talking about my post somewhere around 8am, and when I mentioned the fellow in question claimed he was “horrified”, the Guy rolled his eyes and snickered. Exactly. Anyone who backpeddles and immediately apologizes profusely for something like that’s usually full of shit. (I apologize profusely every time I accidentally boot the Guy’s cast, but y’know, I actually mean that. It’s different.)

    Sigh. Yeah. Men have feelings. Who knew?

    Justin —

  5. Justin

    Her later clarifications on her blog and Eros’ seem to say that she wrote it worse than it was (though boys aren’t the only ones who can backpeddle). What’s irritating now are her snide little sexisms that she keeps throwing out to distract from the less-than-universal approval of her behaviour.

  6. PS

    Really….liver and onions aren’t that bad. In fact, they can be quite titillating. Cook the liver nice and quick and there almost cannot be found a tenderer, sweeter piece of meat.

    I have a Welsh father, lay the blame where you will.

    Honesty and a lack of ego. The key to sex. The key to saying, “I like liver.”

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