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30 Jul

I used to not have fantasies, or if I did, they were very PG. I’d get really embarrassed even just thinking about sex. My relationship with BD began when I was 19, newly secular, with religious residue that made me very much a prude. So our relationship was a kind, caring, loving one, and sex was missionary and respectable. That did change some with time, but I was never entirely free that way.

As for being attracted to others, thinking about other men – that was completely taboo. For years, I’d never even notice if a hot guy passed me by. All my girlfriends would be drooling, and I’d be like – hey, what did I miss? I was a one-man-woman, in life, in my thoughts, even in my dreams – honestly, I’d never even had a dream about another man. In 13 years, I’d say that’s weird.

But in the past two years, since becoming single again, I fantasize quite a lot, and I love it. Anytime, anywhere, my mind can wander and just think about – whatever… It’s liberating. Actually, what’s liberating is the fact that for the first time in my life, I feel totally free of guilty or otherwise negative emotions surrounding sexual thoughts. It’s my mind, it’s my right to think whatever I want with it, to imagine whatever I want with it, whoever I want, wearing whatever I decide, doing whatever I please. That might seem trivial to some of you, but it’s a novelty to me.

And there’s more to it that just liberation, although that is a big part of it. Fantasizing makes me feel alive. Let’s face it, adult day to day life can wear you out. It’s getting up every morning, coffee, breakfast, putting the boy at daycare, work, lunch, more work, more coffee, picking up the boy, snack, play, dinner, shower, bed time, clean up, sacred time for me, sleep, coffee, breakfast etc… Obviously, there are many pleasures in this routine. And yet, the fact that I can just be sitting at my desk, and suddenly be somewhere else in my mind, somewhere exciting… That’s just amazing to me.

My fantasies aren’t always sexual. It’s really about daydreaming. Lately I’ve found myself having full on conversations in my head with people, playing them out like I’m writing a script, and enjoying them immensely. A talk with my boss turns into a huge promotion and shitloads of money and vacation time. In a talk with an ex who broke my heart, he ends up confessing he still loves me, and I get to say that I’m over it. It can be anything I’ve been wanting to happen, or dreaming about, as far fetched from reality as can be. And there it is materialized before me, for a few minutes of pure uncensored pleasure.

There I am, at the gym, I just finished my run and am high on adrenaline, laying down on a mat to stretch. That hot instructor that I am always staring at is suddenly approaching me. He wants to see if I need help, which I obviously do. As he leans over me, helping me stretch my legs, one hand securing my shoulder, I can feel the heat from his body, as his biceps gleam with sweat. We now realize we are alone at the gym (somehow – in fantasies it doesn’t really matter how), and our eyes lock as we sink into a…

Shit. Green light. I guess I should save this one for later 🙂



5 Jan


It’s a rainy Saturday morning. Baby is taking his morning nap, my sister is staying with him, and I’m hitting the gym. Running. Since BD left it’s become my therapy. Even though I was never the running type, even though I was only 3 months after birth and in terrible shape the day he left, intuitively, I knew that running would make me feel good. So I started with two minute runs. Taking a walk, running for a couple of minutes until I was out of breath and then starting again. Then it was three minutes, five, ten, now I can run up to twenty minutes without stopping.

I run in the park, wind in my hair, sweat trickling down from my forehead to my neck and back, endorphins zooming though my body, and I feel sexy, I feel strong, I feel capable. I don’t listen to music, I listen to the birds, and to my breath, I look at the trees and the grass, and the river and the sky with its clouds, and I try to take in everything, like I’m refilling some stock of optimism in my chest.

At the gym, on the treadmill, it’s a different experience. Music is blasting in my earphones. I like to work out when the gym is crammed and there is an electric vibe of bodies in motion surrounding me, dozens of people together in one place, but each doing their own thing, concentrating on themselves. The hottest thing in the world to me is  a guy running on the treadmill, in the zone, not looking around at anyone else, just being present in the intensity of flexed muscles and heavy breathing.

I warm up, taking the atmosphere in, and then I start to run, and as I do, I take my glasses off, enjoying for once the blurriness, not wanting to see anyone or anything but myself, my needs, my wants, my energy, concentrating on my rhythmic breathing, the warmth of my face, that song that I like. I am a queen and the world is my subordinate, and everything will happen as I demand.

When my heart feels like it’s going to pop out of my chest, that’s when it’s time to slow down to a walk. Head rush, I feel dizzy and happy, sexy and satisfied, able – practically omnipotent. And I think to myself. OK, world, I’m ready for you now. Bring it on.