A couple days ago, I read an entry on the rest room stalls that cried out in pain, “Help! I love my boyfriend but whenever we have sex, I always pretend that I’m with his best friend. I feel so damn guilty, but I’m enjoying myself too much to stop.” This little outpouring lead me to wonder if there were more guilt-ridden folk out there suppressing themselves in the name of love.
Curious, I asked a friend whether she had ever superimposed another guy’s face on her boyfriend while they were boinking. She responded by giving me this look that made me feel like a pervert and rattling off something about Spartan moral strongholds, just before she told me to shut up and never ask her that question again. Christian, no doubt. I walked around campus, asking people here and there the same question and getting chewed-out, spat on and ignored. Getting sick of playing pathetic reporter-wannabe, I decided that most people were just not open to discussing the topic of abstract sexual infidelity, unless of course, they’re taking a dump and happen to have a magic marker handy.
For those of you who can’t recognize the telltale signs of your inner hot spots — or for those of you who just won’t admit that you have inner hot spots — here are three common signs to look for while trying to diagnose yourself of a transgressive sexual imagination (for clarity — and to avoid being called bad names by campus gender police — I’ll explain these examples from a female’s perspective, though they can just as well be from a male’s).
- You have dreams where your boyfriend dies, and his friend is there — conveniently — to comfort you. It’s a rainy afternoon when they bury him. Your tears are lost in the rain as you weep uncontrollably at the loss of your true love. Then, just before you remember that you have to do your laundry, the deceased’s best friend comes over to you and says, “I’ve loved you from the first time I laid eyes on you and, while my buddy was busy getting drunk and making fart noises with his armpits, I often dreamed of doing this…” and tilts your head, planting on your lips a big wet one which, incidentally, also gets lost in the rain.
- You insist on making out with your boyfriend when his friend’s in the next room. As the only link between your fantasies and your reality, the protagonist in you insists on constructing a symbolic situation. Your boyfriend, symbolizing the wall that separates his best friend and yourself, acts as your medium for sexual osmosis. Works like a charm, so well in fact, that you should perhaps begin to wonder why your boyfriend likes it so much. Good excuses for this behavior are, “Hey, I didn’t know the walls were so thin,” or “Hey, I couldn’t control myself, my inner hot spot made me do it,” or even “Hey, hey. Hey!” Go ahead, make up some more excuses here, it’ll be good practice.
- You try to get your boyfriend’s best friend to make funny faces. You’re familiar with his normal facial gesticulations, but these won’t do when plugging them in to fit your fantasy romps. You retort by engaging him in activities that take a lot of exertion and sweat. Some of these activities include wrestling, playing Street Fighter II, moshing and of course, uh… basketball.
Caught yourself nodding your head in burning red recognition, eh? Thought so — so stop kidding yourselves, fools. Know that in truth we’re all libidinous hormones in conservative guise. Because of our upbringing in a largely conservative society where people stare at you for stupid reasons, like having a safety pin stuck through your eyebrow, we are convinced that to live with excitement is to live in SIN. SIN is almost invariably accompanied by feelings of guilt, exemplified by the volume of anonymous inquiries in the lavatory. Other examples of this unconscious guilt can also be found in introspective dialogue, like “I don’t deserve to be loved” or “I lack humanity, therefore I will become an English major and fake it” or “I’m a sexual pervert because I superimpose the face of my boyfriend’s best friend on him while we boink.” Sad, really, all this needless self-flagellation that just ends up costing you major bucks on a leather recliner.
I may be an apologist for sexual incognito, but if it works, I say it’s all-right. It would be beneficial for everyone if steamy sexual thoughts were used to their utmost potential instead of being guiltily scrawled away on the Dear Toilet Stall Columns. Just think of all the great things two people can experience together when their imaginations go pop, and who else better to share them with than a person you care about? However, a word of caution: Don’t go after your mate’s best friend just because you get off by thinking about him during sex. The chances of him fulfilling your dreams are practically nil. While sex with someone you love can breed serviceable fantasy, a fantasy-turned-real encounter is usually nothing more than an experience in self-deception, something that gets blown when morning comes around and you realize too late the error of your ways. Sheesh, talk about guilt! This one will get you buying magic markers wholesale, and then I’ll have to write about this again, and the answer is no. Just remember, as someone once said — and I think it was me — “Whilst torn between guilt and sexual fulfillment, remedy thyself by drinking plenty of fluids and following thy hedonistic instincts.” Translated, it means that without sexual fantasies, sex will become way dull so stop complaining already, you’re all a bunch of damn thespians anyway.
