I don't want to sleep...

Which is tough, because, it's 3.05 am on a Monday, and I'm kinda bored with video games, reading novels, and reorganising all 27 Gigabytes of songs on my iTunes.

I've been a shut-in for months, and I've only just caught up with myself and realised it. I've avoided almost everyone on Earth, making exceptions for the people I live with, and whoever is working the register at the supermarket.

I want to meet someone.

I want to touch minds with someone, and learn something I never knew before. i want to expose myself to something different, like a song, or a poem, or a story. i want to hear about someone else's life, pat their dog, help them carve their mountain bike up and re-weld it into a street chopper.

Maybe it's one of those stupid and overly romantic thoughts, you know, when what you're imagining will never even remotely live up to the reality, should you see it through. A 'noble gesture', I think they're called. One of those "what the fuck was i thinking?" moments, where your entire focus is concentrated on how you can extricate yourself, while causing the least amount of possible offense, to whoever you caught up in this, your latest hair-brained idea.

The fantasy is this: go somewhere unpretentious, like Fitzroy for instance, and strike up a conversation with some random person at a pub. And just talk. Just, shoot the shit, and be natural, and hopefully have a good time.

This is wrong for so many reasons.

For a start, Fitzroy is about the most pretentious place I could go. Secondly, I hate pubs. They smell. And not in the good way. Thirdly, what do random guys in pubs talk about? i can't say I know, but I'm 100% positive I don't care, and couldn't put a good face on it. Sports? Girls? Work? TV? Honestly, kill me now.

So, I run my "C:\Program Files\Autoanalyse.exe", and it tells me quite bluntly that I'm bored, and that, as usual, I'm making the mistake of thinking the answer to my boredom lies somewhere outside of myself. Ah yes, I've been here before.

This is the feeling I get, just before bad things happen.

Bad things happen, I should say, to other people. I'm usually left just as intact, but also just as bored, as when I started. Past 'bad things' include: innumerable relationships, at least eight career changes, a stint in the armed forces, three trips abroad, nine dogs, a cat, two chickens, and the biggest tattoo you have ever seen in your life.

I think about those past relationships a lot, and I always think they were better than they really were. Like Rebecca for instance. She was stunning, there's no other word for it. Everywhere we went, everyone stared at her, then looked at me with a look that said "How exactly the fuck did you land that?" Their expressions of disbelief made it clear they all thought I was a master hypnotist, and that they felt terrible for the day when Rebecca would awaken to see she'd had sexual relations with me.

In truth, she hunted me, and I was so phenomenally bored at the time, the thought of playing outside of my league felt like just the ticket.

She was a smoker, and although she never did it around me, and she always smelled amazing, it carried on her breath. I tried to tell myself it was fine, and that I have to just accept people for who they are, without trying to change them. I should count myself so lucky, to have such an amazing and sweet girl, bending over backwards trying to convince me to see her seriously.

I tried, and I thought I was doing great, when one evening in summer, after a long, slow, and sweaty afternoon of sex, it all fell apart.

I was laying on my back, trying to cool off, and Bec crouched naked above me, gently blowing on my face. Her expression was one of total devotion, you can't buy care like that for anything. I was her entire Universe at that moment, and at that moment, all I could think about was how unpleasant her breath was.

So I ended it then and there.

My friends (there are only three) all thought I was insane, and warned me to go beg for her forgiveness instantly, because I would never get another chance with a girl like that. They were wrong, obviously. I have girls like that after me all the time. The secret is to not want them, then you can't get away from them. The second you actually need someone though, and you're all alone in the desert.

That's how it is.

I think it's better to just fantasize about people anyway. No relationship has ever lived up to my own fantasy of it. It's a sad fact about fantasies, that they fade and die along with the relationships they are connected to. But while they're going, you really can't beat them.

I'm not happy unless I have someone to fantasize about.

This may sound easily solved, but you'd be surprised. As with all simple things, I like to overcomplicate them as much as possible, and sometimes more. There are rules.

Rule number one: The fantasy must revolve around someone you know.

You don't have to have gone camping with them or anything, but you should at least have their number, and for them to know you by first name instantly, should you call them. None of this "Which knifey are you again?" crap, ya hear? Simply fantasizing about hot models or porn stars will not work. Besides, experience has shown me that if I do fantasize about a model/porn star, i will invariably meet them and become friends with them some time down the track, as improbable as it may seem at the time of fantasizing. Trust me, it's awkward enough, without crushing on them too. Besides, I don't like acting typically. Keep 'em guessing, that's the way I play.

Rule number two: You must have at some time, experienced an ambiguous moment with the crush, that you may or may not have translated the wrong way.

For example, my new friend Anna gave me a ride home from a bar one afternoon, after our first good chat. Both of us had to go and get ready for our respective jobs (Her: Real Estate Agent, Me: Tortured Artist Stereotype). I leaned in her window and told her I had fun, and that I'd call her sometime soon, so we could do it again. She smiled, said "Great!", then said "Kisses...", and presented her face for the customary peck goodbye. Melbourne is a very cosmopolitain city, and there are strict rules to adhere to when pecking. South of the river, anywhere between one and two cheek pecks are acceptable, although with two, you must alternate cheeks. North of the river, you generally just kiss the air, unless you're in Fitzroy. Then you kiss them on the lips. We weren't in Fitzroy, we were in North Melbourne. She kissed me on the lips, then drove off. If that isn't a pants-blastingly ambiguous moment, I don't know what is. Total mastie-fuel 4 eva. But i could have it all wrong, and she may kiss all her friends (new or otherwise) that way. If I tried to take her to the next level the next time I see her, I could get laid, or i could get a kick in the nuts. That's what makes it so hot...the not knowing part. Write this down.

Rule number three: The fantasy must easily be the most stupid avenue you could take under the circumstances.

If we continue on with Anna (and who knows, I just might) as an example, we find that my best buddy has an enormous crush on her, and it would rip his heart out, and utterly destroy our friendship for all time, should he discover that we have had sexual relations (which we haven't). Now we're really cooking! face it, with a mix this combustible and juicy, it's almost my responsibilty as a fucked up human being to just throw this baby on the fire, and eat it while it burns. The forbidden is one hell of an aphrodisiac, just ask any Catholic Priest in charge of young boys. Also, my girlfriend (five months and counting) would kill everyone involved using only her mind, should she discover any wrongdoing on my part. The kiss was borderline, if only because I genuinely didn't see it coming. Anything more would be very, very bad, and therefore, exceedingly forbidden and therefore, hot.

Rule number four: The fantasy must never involve anything other than sex.

The dirtier the better. Changing rooms, toilets, in public transport, the park at dusk, her parents bedroom, a confessional, or in the pool while the elderly ladies are doing their low-impact aerobics, it's all good. But if your mind strays to thoughts of quiet nights by the fire and plasma tv, you need to abort the mission at once. It's not a fantasy, it's an impending relationship attempt. They have their own set of rules, first and foremost being, there are no rules, and to forget everything you think you know about relationships heretofore, and to just submit to the crushing reality that is, your heart going someplace it's never been, without you having any control over it whatsoever. Good luck with that.

Rule number five: If at any time, the fantasy appears to be easily realised, it will become worthless. Instantly.

Yup, if you can have it, you don't want it. If you can afford it, it's not good enough. As long as it remains just out of reach, you're in the hot zone. But the second you get that feeling, where you know you're in the drivers seat, and all you have to do is park, get out of the vehicle, and blow it the fuck up. I used to have the maddest, longest, hottest crush on a woman (not a girl) called Jacqueline. All we ever did was fight, we couldn't stand each other. God it was hot. Our paths crossed all the time, no matter how hard we tried to avoid each other. And we'd be at each others throats like you would not believe. Everyone we knew in common was blown away by the ferocity of our arguments. We would get so personal with each other, she would break down in tears, and I would shake with absolute rage. I hated her. But when i was at home, i would think of this Italian woman, with her long dark hair, and perfectly sculpted everythings, and before you know it, I'd have a smile on my face, and a whole lot more laundry. As fate would have it, we both ended up being involved in a project together, unbeknownst to the both of us at our time of agreement. And at the very end of our respective involvements with the project, we found ourselves alone together. I could feel her just hating the shit out of me from behind my back, but I was too preoccupied with thoughts of backing over her in a tank, to let them distract me too much. Then, without any warning to my mind (this always happens), my body turned to face her, my mouth activated, and I said "I think about you when I masturbate. I think about what it would be like to kiss you, to slowly undress you, to explore every part of you. I could fuck you like you've never been fucked before, and the thought of it gets me off harder and longer than the thought of any other single thing." Thus having confessed, i sat back and awaited my derision. Jacqueline leaned forward, that perfect mouth smiling, and she said "I know. I can't keep my hands off myself when I think about you. I can tell the kind of body you have under your clothes, and it drives me crazy. I watch your cock moving in your jeans when you walk, and all I can think about is you fucking owning me." We sat in utter silence for a few seconds, then we both cracked up at exactly the same time. "Are you serious?" I asked, she replied "Yeah! Are you?", to which I replied "Totally!" The tears rolled out of our eyes, and when our laughter finally subsided, we both sighed contentedly, and that was the end of it. We never fought again, and we never flirted either. She knew the rules, and now, so do you.

But fantasies aren't all plain-sailing.

Like everything in my life, I have gone to an enormous amount of effort to discover new and exciting ways I can derail myself, and potentially fuck myself over better than anyone else could fuck me over.

Normally, when you're writing on your blog page, and you ask a question, it's usually rhetorical, right? (Do you love how I just did that?) Oh! I'm unstoppable! Anyways...we can dress it up in all kinds of ways, like "Maybe it's just me...", or "Don't you just hate it when...". And it's normal and we're not going to act surprised when people respond and say "No, it's not just you, I do it too!" Then you can kiss each others asses, and BAM! You're stuck having to leave nice comments for them for a few weeks until some other ass-kisser comes along and takes over.

The point is, I don't actually expect anyone to respond similarly to what I'm about to say. I know I'm not special, but i do think (read: hope) that no-one else goes through this thing that i go through, because it sucks, and not in the good way. And that thing is this:

In just the same way as most of us experience a diminishing range of ability to imagine stuff as we grow older, my abilty to fantasize has also changed.

I am so insecure, that it has crept into my fantasy life.

I get rejected, even in my fantasies!

If that isn't the saddest and most pathetic thing you have ever read, I don't want to know what is, because I'll probably lose all will to carry on.

So there I am, hands down my pants, grabbing at all my hard parts, and doing a little dance that looks stupid but feels utterly amazing. I'm thinking about you (and if you're a guy, and you're reading this, just go with it, because I'm not about to rewrite the whole thing for dual genders). I'm thinking about you, and we know each other, and we've shared an ambiguous moment, and it's a really bad idea, the worst idea even, and it's just sex and nothing more, and I make my move, and you look disgusted and tell me I'm a stupiddumbjerk, and I lose my erection, and feel really sad and pent-up and generally unsatisfied. And I'm all upset and rejected and hurt, and I'm just wishing I could get myself off without getting rejected by my own fucking private fantasy.

I mean Come on !!!

I should be able to take off and fly if I want! I should be able to punch Godzilla in the face, and stab him to death with his own broken teeth! I should be able to knock King Kong out, rescue Fay Wray, and do her relentlessly on the freaking roof of the Chrysler building, or the Empire State, or wherever the fuck ever.

God I hope my Mum isn't reading this.

Point is, i can't do any of these things, i can't do anything at all, because the people who control my fantasies aren't me, they are a committee consisting of every girl that has ever dumped me, every mean kid at school, every person, in short, who has ever been a c**t to me, ever, in my whole life.

And that is PATHETIC, with a capital P, y'all. I have to cheat, and fantasize that the fantasy is happening to some other guy (usually a friend), and I am vicariously getting off because whatever he's feeling feels so good, even though I don't get to feel it. Like, it's so hot, it gets me off, even though it isn't happening to me.

I'm in the crazy situation, where I'm so insecure, I can't enjoy a simple fantasy life. Instead, i have to 'make do' with reality, where my insecurities don't get in the way. is obverse even a word? 'Cause if it is, it should be in here somewhere! If I meet a girl, and we talk, and she looks at me a lot, and smiles, and makes a couple of digs at me so I don't see she's ready to be seduced at the drop of a hat, 'the committee' doesn't have a say in the matter. If she likes me, she likes me. And if she wants to have sex with me, the committee can't stop her.

And for some reason, I find myself in situations like this a lot. Either there are an inordinately large number of horny women in Australia, or i have met all the ones their are, despite the odds against such an occurrence happening. I haven't followed to see where these situations would take me for a long time now, like i said, i have a girl, and I'm doing my absolute best not to fuck it up. But if I were single, I have no doubt I would be living my fantasy life in reality, like I have done for years before now, without ever getting to have a proper, uncensored fantasy life in private.

And for someone who is a total hermit, that's a strange way to have it.

So, in the spirit of you all liking me and thinking I'm great, help me out, by sharing with me one of your fantasies. They don't have to conform to my rules, just make them real and honest. Oh, and relatively legal. Sodomy and sex in public are welcome, kids and animals, no thank you. Change names if you like, whatever. But hit me up with what you think about, and if you can go deeper and say why it works for you, that would be even better. Because it's the psychology of our fantasy lives that really appeals to me, more than the Penthouse Forum-esque descriptions themselves (as good as they are).

I'd love to hear what really confident and succesful people fantasize about. Do people like that even blog? Do thet even exist? What does Tony Robbins fantasize about in private? Please, don't let it just be his wife! What does someone who has it all, and knows everything secretly get off on? What about cops? And politicians? We all know what Presidents get off on, and to be honest, i think it's fair to speak for all of us when I say we were somewhat underwhelmed (although, to be fair, I saw a show featuring Monica Lewinsky a while after the scandal, and she looked freaking gorgeous...all of a sudden).

But most importantly, what do you, good people of the world, secretly desire, and how (and where/why/who with/when...)?

I think fantasies speak volumes about who we really are, underneath all the layers of superficiality. I don't think we can escape our fantasies, and I think some people are even tormented by them.

Let it out.


This is knifey, from 'the internet'.