Early last year Gillian Anderson was looking for people to share their sexual fantasies for a book she was putting together, now due out September 17th.
She had a link for women to submit theirs to be featured. I so wanted to submit, but knew both my talent and my fantasy would be way too mild.
This is how I reacted when I saw the initial post:
My fantasy, really, is just something I call the Fully Clothed Comfort Woman in bed with another Fully Clothed Comfort Woman.
As a very unpretty 52-year-old lesbian virgin, I feel highly unqualified to write about sexual fantasies, but on the other hand, I also have always had a longing inside me that has gone on three decades plus, unspoken, because I just don’t know who to speak to about it. None of my friends would understand
They either don’t talk about sex, just like I don’t, they’re completely straight and don’t understand what it’s like to long for someone of their own gender or they’re too busy being married.
I don’t really think that what I feel is a fantasy, I’ve never really let my mind go there because of how I was raised and how even now I’m still conflicted about being gay
I might be underwhelmingly low in my sex drive, but I am overwhelmingly drowning in my romantic side…my fantasy involves finding somebody would understand and not judge that I am, but understand what it’s like to just find beauty and the idea of holding hands with someone and spending the night in the same bed with ease and coziness rather than with frenzy and passion.
Because I've never had sex I don’t think I know what to fantasize about. I just know that my emotions feel like a fantasy.
My fantasy, given all the wreckage that lies behind it, is still rather simple: I long to be another person in another body, comfortable with both and comfortable with the idea of love and sex and not the fear of going to Hell that goes with it.
…wisps of fantasy, strong despite such flimsiness, but never fully formed because of my fears and lack of experience.
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