In this blog, over the last half a quarter century (!), I have documented my fantasies. Or rather, mostly, I’ve documented some combination of my plans and my hopes and my thoughts and my attempts and my experiences. Sure, there have been a few genuine, unadulterated fantasies here and there (like my core masturbatory fantasy, or my fantasy, years ago, about an impossible threesome involving me, Sofia, and Marina). But, for the most part, I have not engaged in much pure fantasy: imagination, without even any possibility of realization. And – and here’s the quasi-epiphany (which, like all epiphanies, is obvious once stated) – the thing about fantasies is that their unattainability is, in fact, an essential aspect of them. And so, when you’re as “lucky” as I am – when you’re able to conjure your “fantasies” in real life, when women do as I ask, dress as I direct, move as I require, etc. – when all that happens? Well, then, I’m left in one of two states: either I’ve got the emptiness that follows satisfaction (“That was fun, but now what?”), or the sadness that follows disappointment (“That wasn’t precisely what I had in mind.”).
I’ve written 10,000 times that “getting” is better than “having.” What I haven’t explored so much? Whether “wanting” might be even better than “getting”?
In recent days, as I’ve been indulging my obsessional, monomaniacal taste for artificial intelligence porn (and while I know it’s tiresome, there’s more to say on that soon), I’ve been wondering – why is it that the orgasms I’ve been having on my own to it have been more powerful than any I can remember in recent times? why is it that I haven’t been craving new sexual partners? Why haven’t I been craving porn (other than that I’ve been “creating”)? Why have I been hornier than usual, waking up with hard-ons more than usual? What’s. Going. On? [Obviously – I live my life in a relationship, and it’s my habit, in this blog, not to talk too much about that. But. Suffice it to say, there are implications of all this for that.]
It’s all very strange. But. I think it may boil down to this: I’m (re)discovering the joys of true fantasy, and it’s energizing me, in exciting, interesting, strange ways.
This post has a weird postscript.