Friday, February 13, 2015
I never read Fifty Shades of Grey because it didn't sound like my cup of whatever. But here's what I won't do: Berate or shame anyone who enjoys this particular fantasy.
Because what we find erotic is so beyond our control; to change a sexual fantasy would be about as successful as trying to guide a night time dream. You'd never fall asleep. The whole thing is so singular, and only occasionally couples, successfully.
When someone doesn't wade in your pool of primordial ooze, well, it seems funny at best, and at worst...I had this boyfriend once, and thought I was falling in love. And he said, "Let's tell each other our sexual fantasies." And I said, giggle-giggle, "You go first."
When he finished his wish-list, I grabbed the car keys and said something to the effect of, "Don't you ever touch me again, you fucking pervert."
I suspect that sex is tied to the way we shot out of the womb, got the bum wiped, and blinked our way into the reality.
And then, later, lessons learned, taught by questionable teachers.
Labels: fifty shades of grey