With 50 Shades of Grey raking it in at the box office, I thought I’d explore why women love their rape fantasies. It’s over at Thought Catalog.
Here’s a true story to accompany the article: like any other red-blooded human being, I enjoy erotic fantasies and dreams. Perhaps owing to my very practical German blood, I have a hard time cheating on my husband, even in my imagination. The most common way for me to have imaginary, yet still guilt free sex with Chris Hemsworth or Ben Affleck (shut up, he’s handsome and I like his meathead persona), is to indulge in the rape fantasy.
It’s not my fault! It’s not really cheating! He made me do it!
The other way is to imagine that I am a widow, but I can’t just say presto, and make myself a widow. This only happens when I am asleep and dreaming. What starts out as a totally hot dream ends up with me startling awake, often in tears, because I’ve just imagined my husband’s death and attended his funeral.
Those dreams actually suck. I much prefer the rape fantasy.
I wonder if I am unusual? I don’t think so, and I have a hunch that a good number of real life “rapes” are not rapes at all, but cheating women covering up their infidelity, even if it has gone unnoticed. They are so guilt ridden, they want to confess, but not face any consequences. So the cheating becomes rape.
I’ve speculated on some other reasons women love rape fantasies, but for me, it’s about having imaginary sex without feeling guilty. I guess there’s a reason thou shalt not covet is such an ancient command?
Lots of love,