They say it’s good to have a healthy fantasy life. They also say it helps to keep your mind active. What they, whoever “they” might be, never mention is that those two things don’t mix well.
I’ll warn you now, this post isn’t for everyone. Tastefully (and hopefully humorously) written as it might be, there’s no getting around the fact that it’s about masturbation.
At some point in most peoples’ lives, they’ve realized that having a mate doesn’t necessarily preclude them from occasionally having to take matters into their own hands, so to speak. I’m lucky enough to have a partner that doesn’t mind if I take in a bit of adult entertainment here and there, but sometimes that just doesn’t do the trick. Being primarily a fiction writer and an artist, I have a fairly active imagination. Occasionally, I get the idea to make that work for me when certain needs arise.
So I get comfortable, preferably alone, and think up something light and playful to get going. That’s about the time it goes horribly wrong.
I’ll give an example of what I mean. Things are going fine in the land of daydreams when, out of the blue, I remember the dogs haven’t been out in a while. Can’t have them making a mess on the carpet, can we? I get up and let them outside to do their business, call them back inside and go back to the task at hand, no pun intended. Back into my mind I go, only to realize that Zach wanted to visit later. Heaving a great sigh, I grab my phone and confirm the time with him. That done, I close my eyes and instantly remember that my sister has a birthday coming up. Okay, dogs, fine. Zach, fine. Sibling, I’m finished.
The real tragedy is that I can’t even put these scenarios to paper for other people to enjoy. Every time, I sit down with the idea to write only the naughty bits and end up with ten pages of nothing good. Why nothing good, you ask? Two reasons. First, I like a bit of narrative to set the scene. Second, when I write, I let my characters make their own decisions; they develop in an organic and fairly realistic fashion as a result. Too realistic, mostly. I end up with ten pages of dialogue and plot that couldn’t possibly lead to anything approaching the fun I had originally envisioned.
I’m generally very comfortable with the chaotic nature of my mind. The way I tend to overthink everything and pick up on details make me unique and I love those things. I’m aware that there are more important things than personal (read: self) gratification. It would be nice to shut all of it out for fifteen minutes and just have some “me” time, though.
Thanks for reading!