Bob had a fantasy last night, in which he fantasized about having sex with his future wife (which all of his fantasies more or less entail). He thought about her stripping off her clothes as he lent his assistance, caressing her ass and fingering her lips (and not the ones on her face). He did a great many other things to her in his imagination as they got undressed. And then they got into bed (as they do in most, but not all, of his little masturbation fantasies),and he fucked her in his mind like a man fucks a woman.
Fantasies along this line have happened before, but what really disturbs me is how Bob trades the truth for a lie. Before he had this little fantasy, he knew that he was going to feel guilty and alone once he was through. Bob knew this, and yet refused to follow what he knew to be true for a short, quick lustful fantasy of a woman who was entirely made-up in his head. Sure, it felt good to him to contemplate what a woman’s naked breasts are hard nipples would feel like pressed against his bare, hair-covered chest…. but in the end, it is all so much fake, foolish wrongness. Bob willfully traded what he knew was good and wholesome for a cheap nothingness that in the end betrayed him. It makes me sad. I do what I can to help, but in the end it is never enough.
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