SEXUAL FANTASY 101: A Beautiful Lie
Jun. 8th, 2006 07:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
la_belle_laideThis actually turns pretty funny, although it may begin with TMI. So I'm slapping on a TMI warning, although it will probably be pretty mild.
Everyone has fantasies, and everyone sometimes has them about celebrities, right? It doesn't matter if you're 15 or 115. Come on, stop looking at me like that, you do so. You over there, thinking about doing Johnny Depp, or you my dear, with the pretty JPop boys, and you ... okay, Johnny Depp for you, too. So, it's not like I'm all alone in this.
I am a little weird about it, though, and I do something that a lot of you probably don't do. I think logic into all of my fantasies until they have deviated from the cool sexual fantasy they were supposed to be into something more along the lines of an indy film where the plain protagonist chick invariably gets rejected by the popular boy. It's so rare that I actually get around to doing it in my fantasies. Here's an example.
I'm driving yesterday, and I decide to have a fantasy. (Yes, I decide these things; they don't just happen.) My flavor of the month is Jared Leto, and as I'm listening to the CD of his awesome band I start to imagine that I get to go to one of their concerts. Truth: I don't like live music and I'm not partial to rock concerts. Even in my heyday of going to every single rock concert I could get my hands on in the early 90's, I wasn't over the moon about it. It was just something to do. So immediately I'm not having the most awesome time in my fantasy. I could skip it I suppose, and after a minute or two or wondering where the hell I would keep my chapstick, keys and credit card in the middle of a moshpit, that portion of the "fantasy" is over. Now, we get to meet the band.
We? Well, yes. I wasn't going to drive there alone. So in my fantasy, I go with two girls from work: Jenn J. because I think she'd be up for something like that, and Brittany D., because she also likes 30 Seconds to Mars when no one else out here has even heard of them. For my sexual fantasy, I take stock footage from what I've seen on the internet: 30STM is very accessible to people who like them, so it isn't actually too farfetched to be meeting them. Outdoors, at night. Something like that. And there is the object of my sexual fantasy, crowded with pretty people. What do I do? Something interesting, quick! It has to make sense!
I go up to the object of said sexual fantasy, flanked by Jenn W. and Brittany D., and my logical brain enters the equation. I am surrounded by my two beautiful friends. Object of sexual fantasy is going to look at me? RIGHT. No, he smiles at Brittany, who is tall, thin, blonde, young and pretty. Or, alternately at Jenn, who is more my age, but blonde, flirty, outgoing, pretty. So now I start to get mad ... at my friends, who haven't actually done anything.
And the sexual fantasy usually ends there, or if it goes on, then only briefly and there is actually no nookie involved.
So I was telling my friends about this all today, giggling over it. I gave Brittany a few slices of the orange I was eating and said, "Here, you Jared stealing beeotch." "Oh, please," Brittany said, "he wears eyeliner, he would so go for the brunette."
It's not about hair color! I wanted to shout, but didn't. It's about reality. It's about beauty and the lack of it!
"Why are you being so logical?" Casse asked me. "Why do you complicate and overthink everything in the world?"
"It's what I do," I told her. (Though later, when asked the same question by Jenn J., I pretentiously told her, "Because I'm a novelist. That's what we do. But one day I'll be a famous novelist and then all the hot men will want me, because I said so." Jenn suggested that this should be the title of my book: "I'm A Novelist And Now All The Hot Men Want Me, Because I Said So." We had been cleaning surgery and the bleach fumes got to us big time.)
"Don't use logic," Casse told me. "Just do what I do with Vince Vaughn. Cut out all the story and just stick him in your bedroom."
"But where are my dogs?" I said. "And who's feeding the birds?"
"Your dogs are sleeping. You don't have any birds, it's winter. Jesus! Who cares?!"
"So I just mentally put this hot guy in my bedroom, don't think about the details, and just, what ... bang? But why? What's the reason for the banging? How did he get there? Where will he go afterwards? And then there's the whole thing about safe sex." And here I meant to say, "What if he doesn't have any condoms?" and instead I said, "What if he doesn't have any comments?"
Which is what started the running gag of the day: Having a sexual fantasy, and then asking the object of your sexual fantasy to fill out a comments and suggestions questionaire before he leaves.
"Excuse me, Jared, before you go running off to the next hormonal 30-something female who longs for you, could you just take a moment to fill out this brief survey about your stay?"
Which amenities did you make use of during your stay in this sexual fantasy? Check all that apply: Pool high-speed internet Air Conditioning / heating
How would you rate the promptness of service during this sexual fantasy: Poor Fair Good Excellent
Would you use any of the products featured in this sexual fantasy? Check all that apply: Nutella Kikkoman Plum Wine Bath and Body Works products
Would you return to this sexual fantasy again? Yes No
How many times a week would you be willing to return to this sexual fantasy? 0-2 nights / week 3-5 nights / week 5-7 nights / week
Would you recommend this sexual fantasy to your friends and family, like for instance your brother? Yes No
Overall how would you rate your experience at this sexual fantasy? Poor Fair Good Excellent
Additional comments: What could be done to improve your stay the next time?
And so on. As per usual, this all went on way too damn long. I specifically left out the "rate the overall appearance of this sexual fantasy", too. Because I'm bitter like that.
That was the funny part. Okay, so maybe the whole thing is funny though, my friends counseling me, "It's made up anyway. Don't think. Just bang."
*Sigh*
Everyone has fantasies, and everyone sometimes has them about celebrities, right? It doesn't matter if you're 15 or 115. Come on, stop looking at me like that, you do so. You over there, thinking about doing Johnny Depp, or you my dear, with the pretty JPop boys, and you ... okay, Johnny Depp for you, too. So, it's not like I'm all alone in this.
I am a little weird about it, though, and I do something that a lot of you probably don't do. I think logic into all of my fantasies until they have deviated from the cool sexual fantasy they were supposed to be into something more along the lines of an indy film where the plain protagonist chick invariably gets rejected by the popular boy. It's so rare that I actually get around to doing it in my fantasies. Here's an example.
I'm driving yesterday, and I decide to have a fantasy. (Yes, I decide these things; they don't just happen.) My flavor of the month is Jared Leto, and as I'm listening to the CD of his awesome band I start to imagine that I get to go to one of their concerts. Truth: I don't like live music and I'm not partial to rock concerts. Even in my heyday of going to every single rock concert I could get my hands on in the early 90's, I wasn't over the moon about it. It was just something to do. So immediately I'm not having the most awesome time in my fantasy. I could skip it I suppose, and after a minute or two or wondering where the hell I would keep my chapstick, keys and credit card in the middle of a moshpit, that portion of the "fantasy" is over. Now, we get to meet the band.
We? Well, yes. I wasn't going to drive there alone. So in my fantasy, I go with two girls from work: Jenn J. because I think she'd be up for something like that, and Brittany D., because she also likes 30 Seconds to Mars when no one else out here has even heard of them. For my sexual fantasy, I take stock footage from what I've seen on the internet: 30STM is very accessible to people who like them, so it isn't actually too farfetched to be meeting them. Outdoors, at night. Something like that. And there is the object of my sexual fantasy, crowded with pretty people. What do I do? Something interesting, quick! It has to make sense!
I go up to the object of said sexual fantasy, flanked by Jenn W. and Brittany D., and my logical brain enters the equation. I am surrounded by my two beautiful friends. Object of sexual fantasy is going to look at me? RIGHT. No, he smiles at Brittany, who is tall, thin, blonde, young and pretty. Or, alternately at Jenn, who is more my age, but blonde, flirty, outgoing, pretty. So now I start to get mad ... at my friends, who haven't actually done anything.
And the sexual fantasy usually ends there, or if it goes on, then only briefly and there is actually no nookie involved.
So I was telling my friends about this all today, giggling over it. I gave Brittany a few slices of the orange I was eating and said, "Here, you Jared stealing beeotch." "Oh, please," Brittany said, "he wears eyeliner, he would so go for the brunette."
It's not about hair color! I wanted to shout, but didn't. It's about reality. It's about beauty and the lack of it!
"Why are you being so logical?" Casse asked me. "Why do you complicate and overthink everything in the world?"
"It's what I do," I told her. (Though later, when asked the same question by Jenn J., I pretentiously told her, "Because I'm a novelist. That's what we do. But one day I'll be a famous novelist and then all the hot men will want me, because I said so." Jenn suggested that this should be the title of my book: "I'm A Novelist And Now All The Hot Men Want Me, Because I Said So." We had been cleaning surgery and the bleach fumes got to us big time.)
"Don't use logic," Casse told me. "Just do what I do with Vince Vaughn. Cut out all the story and just stick him in your bedroom."
"But where are my dogs?" I said. "And who's feeding the birds?"
"Your dogs are sleeping. You don't have any birds, it's winter. Jesus! Who cares?!"
"So I just mentally put this hot guy in my bedroom, don't think about the details, and just, what ... bang? But why? What's the reason for the banging? How did he get there? Where will he go afterwards? And then there's the whole thing about safe sex." And here I meant to say, "What if he doesn't have any condoms?" and instead I said, "What if he doesn't have any comments?"
Which is what started the running gag of the day: Having a sexual fantasy, and then asking the object of your sexual fantasy to fill out a comments and suggestions questionaire before he leaves.
"Excuse me, Jared, before you go running off to the next hormonal 30-something female who longs for you, could you just take a moment to fill out this brief survey about your stay?"
Which amenities did you make use of during your stay in this sexual fantasy? Check all that apply: Pool high-speed internet Air Conditioning / heating
How would you rate the promptness of service during this sexual fantasy: Poor Fair Good Excellent
Would you use any of the products featured in this sexual fantasy? Check all that apply: Nutella Kikkoman Plum Wine Bath and Body Works products
Would you return to this sexual fantasy again? Yes No
How many times a week would you be willing to return to this sexual fantasy? 0-2 nights / week 3-5 nights / week 5-7 nights / week
Would you recommend this sexual fantasy to your friends and family, like for instance your brother? Yes No
Overall how would you rate your experience at this sexual fantasy? Poor Fair Good Excellent
Additional comments: What could be done to improve your stay the next time?
And so on. As per usual, this all went on way too damn long. I specifically left out the "rate the overall appearance of this sexual fantasy", too. Because I'm bitter like that.
That was the funny part. Okay, so maybe the whole thing is funny though, my friends counseling me, "It's made up anyway. Don't think. Just bang."
*Sigh*
