sexual fantasy

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.

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all of her

She was a point, but she felt pointless, so she became a line. But no one listened to her line, so she expanded into the worlds of width, breadth, and height. Here she encountered endless shapes, but her point had vanished. And her lines were constantly mutating into other angles. With no defined shape, she decided to expand into a four dimensions, but found she was yoked into dragging the other three with her into an ageing future. Five and six were similarly, just pointless variations on a theme. So made an effort and found her point again, though others criticized her as one-dimensional. After a certain point, she vanished.

Questions for my friends

Questions for my friends:

Do you know how beautiful you are?

Do you know that you literally saved my life?

What does your face look like when you just wake up?

Have you ever sat down in the shower and cried?

Have you ever gone to sleep, and woken up, weeping?

Which smells of your body do you like the most?

Have you ever felt drawn to a rigid religion for the feeling of legitimacy it might give you?

Have you ever had a sexual thought about me?

Does the feeling of thankfulness in your life outweigh the feeling of apologetic “sorry”?

Name three beautiful words you’ve said out loud when all alone.

Do you like to press your palms to your eyes and see the emerging patterns?

Have you ever thought something inappropriate?

Tell me about a time you were accidentally racist.

Tell me about a time you were purposefully racist.

Tell me about your kindness.

I love you.

If you could give everyone in the world just one (same) hand-held object, what would it be?

If you could give everyone in the world just one (same) talent, what would it be?

Would you still like me if I were fat?

Anorexic?

Republican?

Libertarian?

More confident?

Who (all) would you like by your side on your deathbed?

What information would you like me never to tell you?

Why are you so judgemental?

What if everyone judged you as harshly as you judged everyone?

Would you think less of me if I enjoyed [shallow pop musician] deeply?

Why don’t you call me more?

Can you forgive me?