Does a woman’s sexual fantasy reflect her upbringing?
People often inquire as to whether a woman’s sexual fantasies are a reflection of her upbringing or her current situation. Her imagination does not seem to be influenced by her educational background or economic level. Isn’t it true that my stuff has always been organically diversified and falls into these groups?
According to how questions were posed, particularly during my study in England, the “Yes” response was usually implied: A woman’s family history would be revealed.
The answer is “No,” in my opinion. It is not necessary for wealthy ladies to dream about masked dukes, just as it is not necessary for the illiterate wife of a miner to imagine about four-letter terms. The same cannot be said for the opposite. The discussion about the actual lady behind the dream is pointless unless one wants to deny that her social status or upbringing has had a significant impact on her thoughts and actions. What turns someone on can never be predicted in advance.
If you shuffled all of my written responses to letters and advertisements requesting contributions that I’ve placed in various publications in the United States and England, as well as all of the in-person interviews I’ve conducted in those same countries, it would be impossible to match the lady to the fantasy…
other from nationality, of course
So, Mrs. Jones, don’t anticipate your Abigail to be discovered in the comparatively acceptable Earth Mother Room just because of her “”birth”” or because of her lovely marriage to Jack Princeton. Although she has undergone extensive Foxcroft training, she is just as likely to be seen rolling about in the mud with an Airedale as she is to be found with any of the other people who dream about sexual humiliation. The only thing she will change is the way she expresses herself linguistically.
When it comes to sexual fantasy, I think the language and imagery may be alarming, and it’s possible that this has turned off some readers who have read this novel for the first time. There is no other path of action once it has been decided that the issue is worthy of a serious debate.
To attempt to express the feeling, meaning, and experience of sexual fantasy via the use of euphemisms would be like to handing a thirsty guy a piece of paper with the word “water” scrawled across the top of it. You either get the actual thing or you don’t get anything at all!
A few epiphanies have occurred to me in the past. Despite the fact that I am sympathetic to fantasy, I have not sat silently and unmoved by all of this content. After opening my fantasy mail – which consisted of responses to letters and adverts – in the morning, more than one cup of coffee had gone down the wrong way in the process.
Wow! Although the language and circumstances are strong for nine o’clock in the morning, I’m not too taken with them. Although the amount of imaginative detail that impressed me, the intuitive understanding that prettifying fantasy is the same as sucking the life out of it, and above all the evocative creativity in the fantasies of women whose lives were otherwise as routine and predictable as sending the children to school in the morning, were particularly impressive.
When it comes to women, sexual fantasies serve as a wonderful equalizer. I think it’s a pity that women can’t communicate as openly with one another or be as candid about themselves in real life as they do in their dreams. In fantasy, everyone speaks the same language because they all desire the same goal, which is the same thing.
In some ways, I believe that’s what guys primarily get out of their sessions in the clubhouse locker room: there, stripped of everything, they can chat about anything and everything without pretense or bullshit, and they can even slip each other a little sexual gratification.
They are unable to locate any further identification. Who knows what the future holds for us. Women may also experience a reduction in their emotions of sexual isolation, as well as a sense of mutual identity and, maybe, a sense of female camaraderie, as a result of this book.
Although these are “dirty” ideas, we all have them, men and women alike, and what makes them “filthy” in the first place, other than maybe their secrecy, is beyond me to comprehend. Women are known for their secrecy, and nowhere is this more evident than in their dreams, which are often based on real-life events. They turn to lonely exploration inside their separate fantasy worlds because they are deprived of any genuine sense of sexual affiliation with other women.
Women who have looked to literature for insights and answers to their own deepest desires and sexual reactions have discovered that most of literature’s insightful revelations have been directed at men by men, and when the same men try to tell how it is for women, no one knows more quickly than a woman how far off the mark they are.
In fact, even the most recent women-for-publications women’s are circumspect about it rather than about it – as if the appropriate language didn’t exist; in the meanwhile, women continue to sigh and remark, “No one has ever properly articulated ‘it.’
Does a woman’s sexual fantasy reflect her upbringing?
” Do you think it’s so surprising that when people are speculating about the male “it,” they use the strongest, crudest, and most “pornographic” terms and imagery to make real, emotionally, something they’ve never defined but which they know to be just as potent and earth-shaking as every pornographic description of the male “it” they’ve ever heard or read about him?
It is possible that the gutsiness of female imagery belies the beautifully turned brims on their Adolpho hats or the pencil pleats in their Villager calico dirndls, but the images and the words themselves are timeless and unaffected by social class – only incidental grammar and place names give any indication of identity.
But, Pretty Lady, how could you come up with such a brilliant concept when sitting in your high-rise condo surrounded by diapers, or behind the tinted glass of your Rolls-Royce? These are the lips of someone who has never taken an oath, much less touched a man’s cock, and the tidy little intellect that “looks” to be preoccupied with the education of the children.
Where did you receive the inspiration for a new employment, or an even more recent summer outfit? And, should the woman be so kind as to respond, she would almost always say something along the lines of “Why, from when I was a small kid and accidentally saw…”
From as little seeds as a blink in infancy, a full-blown sexual dream might blossom, enriched and evolved through time, but it all began with a look, a child’s fleeting glimpse into the hidden garden. What secrecy and restriction may do, and what growth potential there in the word “don’t,” is shown by the fact that the seed grew – and to such enormous dimensions.
In this case, as an illustration, Seeing an adult guy urinating behind a tree for the first time, a small girl is taken aback…. notices a brilliant red tip come from the prick of a woolly dog… While riding home from school, he is ‘provocatively’ tormented by an older guy… or being subjected to the sexual trauma of a sadomasochistic encounter at school (please read Mona’s letter below and shed a tear for her). In the face of this puzzling and often scary new knowledge, what is she to do next?
There’s no one who wants to know, hear, or speak to her about it — she’s “not old enough,” the issue is “not pleasant,” and she knows that hearing about it would make Mummy “nervous” – that much she is aware of. All of this simply serves to increase the intrigue around the prohibited pieces of information.
As a result, these ideas are added to the jumble of other exhilarating, sometimes scary feelings, daydreams, and other secrets she has been gathering – or concealing – throughout her childhood. During that long lull before she begins any meaningful contact with boys (I don’t necessarily mean sex), by the time she has stopped playing with dolls and is no longer playing with them, she has enough powerful imagery stored away in her head to stun the horniest writer of the most exotic porn she has ever discovered in her older brother’s room.
Not precise information that she can put together with any comprehension, but interesting parts to painstakingly embroider, all on her own, and all the more imaginatively for her lack of understanding (which the vulgar often call “innocence”). Everything grows out of proportion when forbidden items are kept in tight, dark spaces.
Does a woman’s sexual fantasy reflect her upbringing?
As a result, over time, that small seed, that sight or concept that instantaneously fired her imagination, takes shape as a dream, complete with more absurd clothing and language than anything books, television, films, or obscene jokes can provide.
After ten, fifteen, or even twenty years have passed since the seed was planted (women are incredibly loyal to their first fantasy, and frequently return to it after new and less potent fantasies have mysteriously lost their zap), it is often impossible to tell which fantasy was the source of the original seed. She, on the other hand, is aware.
Important firsts are remembered fondly by women.
