Stealing Fantasies

I'm going to cut and paste a blog I wrote someplace else because I think it should also be here- with the story that it goes with. I'm also willing to accept the disapproval of my blog reading greek chorus if you think I shouldn't have posted this where Mr.Aloof is clearly going to read it.

Speaking of which, he contacted me today. To let me know that he has reworded his profile (and would be more active on IC) and that he hoped it didn't upset or offend me. Hey yeah guess what- the only reason you are fucking sending me that fucking email is because you KNOW it's going to upset me. So fuck you fuck you fuck you. That's not exactly what I wrote back however. And yes, I stupidly wrote back in the ten minutes between when I got his email and when I had to leave for therapy and I showed up at therapy a mass of sobbing angry tears. Genius.

Apparently it was a good thing though because my therapist seems to think she feels that much closer to understanding my responses- getting to see me in the middle of having one of the more intensive ones.

Anyway. What I wrote back was not worth mentioning because it was completely off the handle. I also sent him a memo on IC to specifically say that I found his comment offensive (this was before I decided to write the blog there). Then I was still just so seething mad I wrote the following. Was I wrong?

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Appropriating Fantasies

It's really difficult enough when a relationship ends for any number of reasons. It's difficult to sort out the baggage. What about the imaginary baggage? When you have felt so close to someone that you open up your deepest darkest thoughts and share them with another. Frequently in terms of sexual fantasies, they can often be inspired by the partner, but also tap into long standing interests or ideas that an individual may hold.

You read things, you see things, they give you ideas.

Me, I'm a wealth of ideas, but I'm pretty shy about sharing them. It doesn't mean they aren't there, it means I usually need a great deal of courage and inspiration to share them with someone. Usually my fantasies are taken from a variety of sources- images, other stories I may have read, situations in which I was bored and imagined an alternative. All of these stray thoughts entertain me.

I shared a fantasy with someone once. It started off with a comment of theirs. About an alley. About the attraction of an alley. This led me to consider two things. One, a series of haunting and exciting photographs that one of my favorite photographers took of his partner in an alley in New Orleans, and second, of a specific alley that wasn't so far from this persons' house.

It was coming on winter, and I thought to myself, how does one get to an alley to do naughty things? Why under a long coat of course! This led me to consider a second set of photographs (by the same photographer) I had seen a couple of years before where his partner and some of her girlfriends went out in the snow with nothing on under their long coats and he took photos of them frolicking in the streets.

So… I thought to myself…. How does one get to an alley in winter? I suppose you can leave from your house, and go out and come back, but since my visits to this particular person involved a train journey (an hour or so and uneventful train journey- key previous comments about stray thoughts) I thought about how naughty and exciting it would be to wear a long coat over boots, stockings, garter, perhaps an underbust corset- and to arrive and then go to this particular alley for some misbehaving.

Now, my fantasies don't tend to be specific. I got about that far, and being the submissive that I am, figured the rest of the exciting adventure would be at the discretion of my partner. And so I relayed this set of ideas to the person around whom they centered.

He seemed keen on this idea when I first mentioned it. So keen in fact, that within a week of mentioning it, I had spent an entire weekend shopping for just the right coat. Some time passed, and the fantasy never came to fruition. But it was mentioned in passing every now and then. The coat was displayed and examined, but no date was ever set. Then one day there were some texts elaborating the fantasy. Obviously he was taken with it and added the idea that he would meet me at the departure station first and relieve me of my belongings so that I was truly made helpless except for my single train ticket.

Of course I appreciated this creative addition; still, the event never happened. Even my friends knew about it (well, they had shopped with me for the coat) and they kept asking if we'd picked a date yet.

Sadly, the weather got warmer and it never came to be. Then my relationship with this particular person ended this April in a rather spectacular fashion of betrayal and lies and dishonesty. This included, oddly enough, a 'secret' profile which when found was shockingly seeking for someone else to fulfill this very same fantasy. How overwhelmingly disgusted was I to see my innermost secret desires used as bait for someone else? How sickened did I feel to know that something that was so dear to me and was shared with someone as a gesture of trust and closeness was being used as a tool to go fishing for another?

I was horrified. And when it was all revealed, I even told him so. Not that he changed the profile. Although a month later it went dead.

Now however, the same story is repeated. Again. Just a small sentence. But still my fantasy. My desire. My idea. My passion. How gauche to be looking for someone else to fill it? How utterly demeaning and insulting. I understand that things you share with past partners are exciting and invigorating and stimulating. I still think of ideas that were shared with me that were not mine to start with- a circle of stones, a hunt, a dinner party. And as much as those ideas appeal to me, it seems wrong to simply advertise for someone else to step in and take the place.

Or maybe I should just feel vindicated. Because what I wanted and created as an idea and possible scenario was so appealing and exciting that he can't seem to get over it?

No, I think I'm still pissed off.