[SubmissiveGuyComics is also doing a post for our NaBloWriMo project, though he’s hiding some of them on Twitter so if you aren’t following him, you should… ]
“We should write each other our hottest fantasy,” I said, triumphant at my brilliant idea.
I was in my mid-20s, in a wonderful relationship with a vanilla man who I loved madly. In hindsight, I have identified him as a vanilla submissive: the first man I found who could give me what I wanted in a relationship, the first man I ever fell in love with, the man to whom I compared all others for years afterwards, and they all came up short.
I had not heard of BDSM then, or D/s, or any of those things. But when I look back, I can give aspects of our relationship those labels, and they fit, and it all worked for us.
He looked at me, smiled. “Okay,” he said.
“Anything you want, your biggest secret,” I said.
We each went away and wrote out some hot story of desire and passion. A few days later, he declared that he’d finished his.
I told him to hand it over, but that I hadn’t finished mine yet.
He did, shy and sweet.
I read it.
To this day, I can’t recall what was in it. Not even a little of it remains. What I remember is that the content was romantic, tender, lovely. It was a story of seduction.
I’m sure I made all the right noises over it, I can’t remember.
What I remember was the contrast with my story, which was full of dirty-hot wrongness, non-consensual victimisation and helplessness, force and fear and careless objectification.
And what I remember was the immediate recognition that I could never share what I had written with him. I felt ashamed, and I felt the weight of wrongness, neither of which I had felt at all in the writing of the story, squirming in my seat, imagining whispering it to him and watching him react. In fact, I’m not sure that it had really occurred to me that it was particularly off-kilter until I saw the contrast with his.
I expect it was the first time I had ever thought to share what was in my head with someone because I loved him and I trusted him, and the shock of realising that he might be repulsed by it, and by me, is still with me. Maybe he would not have been, but the relationship didn’t need to change, there was nothing ‘doable’ in the fantasy, there was no compelling reason to share it, and the fear that he would find my thoughts ugly and disturbing made taking the risk completely not worthwhile.
I tucked that story away somewhere, probably masturbated over it many times, and I never showed him. The story exchange had been my idea, so it was easy to avoid reciprocating. Probably “Oh it’s not finished yet” was sufficient until the whole idea faded away.
I had these feelings of fear of fantasy sharing until my husband. Sometimes, even if I know it’s not doable, I just state that at the beginning and still share.
It’s nice to read these snippets and oftentimes reflections that you’ve been outpouring recently.
I’m so glad you have that with your husband! So lovely *smile*.
And thank you, this NaBloRrrrawrMo thing is forcing me to post things I might not otherwise put out there: stepping a little out of my comfort zone.
Thanks for sharing this (and everything else, *swoons*). Over and over again, we are told to share – to share our hopes, dreams, fantasies and desires with our partner, to be vulnerable, open and honest. And I get all that, but still, isn’t there room for keeping some things private? I imagine there are lots of perfectly successful relationships that would not benefit from sharing some fucked up fantasy. And its hard to put that stuff back in the bag once its out, just ask the NY cop with the cannibalism fetish. Didn’t go so well for him. Like so much of the standard advice, I wonder if it goes to far. Even in the closest of relationships, do you imagine being able to share everything with your partner? I think that’s a fine goal, but I wonder how attainable it actually is for most of us.
“Thanks for sharing this (and everything else, *swoons*).”
*smile* My pleasure.
“And I get all that, but still, isn’t there room for keeping some things private? I imagine there are lots of perfectly successful relationships that would not benefit from sharing some fucked up fantasy.”
That’s such a good question.
I think we all know that the ideal is a resounding “Of course you should be able to share everything!!” I think there is a good argument to be made for the face that it’s that kind of sharing that increases intimacy. No doubt it does.
The truth: For me, there’s ‘sharing things that I need in this relationship’ and there’s ‘sharing things just because I want to share’. The first is mandatory because without it, the relationship will suffer. The second is completely optional, and my post was about a thing that was firmly in that basket.
There are thoughts in my head that I will probably NEVER share with anyone ever, not least because I would be a little bit scared of anyone who thought it was hot also (how’s that for hypocrisy?! Wow!), and I also think that there is a power in those secrets and shedding light on them would render them impotent. Complicated business.
As a side note, I get unreasonably frustrated by the smug dominants who say things like “I don’t have fantasies, I have plans”, and I’m all “Wow, you really lack some imagination, doncha sport?!” :P
Yep, sometimes it’s extremely hard to share the much darker things.
UGH! The thoughts of wondering if maybe he would have been at first horrified but then electrified by your revelation as his cock twitched involuntarily would haunt me! But I get it. You were still finding your way in yourself. That’s already scary and vulnerable.
Relationships…paved with a road that can look safe and smooth until something is revealed or said that replaces the even path with boulders and potholes.
I believe that as we get more knowledgeable with ourselves that wisdom tempers what we share and how. If only that wisdom was with us in our youth!
I had never shared that sort of thing with anyone, but I didn’t *think* it was a big deal: I always just thought I was ‘normal’. Until that moment when I realised that it could all go horribly wrong.
I also think the risk runs both ways: Just as he might see me through a very different filter, if he reacted badly, I might also never really trust him again.
So yeah, sharing some things is fraught, and if there’s no actionable outcome, sometimes it’s just not worth the risk.