Is this sexual fantasy deeply narcissistic? Is the friend-partner just a female me? Does this fantasy assume that someone would be as content with such a gaze as I would? Does this fantasy assume that my visual appreciation (quite a male trait, I hear) is more important that the types of fulfilment desired by this partner? Do I have a specific partner in mind (I do, somewhat dismayingly.) Does this fantasy not place sexuality outside the home (as in grand-patriarchal tradition), and yet even deny any kind wet fulfilment to the partner? Isn’t the fantasy quite a selfish one, really? It assumes a trust. It also assumes a frame between the everyday and the hour or so a week within. It is essentially Platonic. Am I now a bad human for this desire? There are frames where the desire to penetrate is one of violence and violation, an implementation of male force. I’m safe on that count. There are also (more recent) frames where the non-consummation is a denial of a sort, a violence of emotion, a manipulation and eschewing of pleasure-giving. Then I am guilty. Also there could be read an aversion to emotional responsibility here. But at the same time, to assume the emotional dependence of another seems to me a quiet sort of sexism.
The essential thing about a desire is that it is a projection outward of some very rooted instincts. Most humans share the same sorts of instincts when it comes to desire, and I pass no judgement on the colourful forms it can assume. Continue reading “sexual fantasy”