Understanding My Relationship with Sexual Fantasies:

Sex has always been treated as something hidden, almost taboo. Talking about it openly often feels “dirty” or forbidden. Yet, as the old saying goes, desire is as natural as hunger. People can joke freely about their love for food, but when it comes to preferences in intimacy, suddenly silence takes over.

Growing up in China, I noticed that even literature was heavily censored. Anything describing intimacy beyond the neck was considered unacceptable by law. As a result, conversations around sexuality often happened in whispers, if at all.

Although I vaguely remember having some form of “sex education” in school, most people I know learned about sexuality through novels or media in secrecy. For me, it wasn’t just the lack of education—it was also the shame deeply ingrained by parents and society. I grew up believing that sexual desire itself was wrong, something to suppress, something that made me “bad” if I gave in to it.

This mindset shaped how I related to my own curiosity. Whenever I read romantic or intimate stories, I felt both drawn in and guilty afterward, as if I had done something sinful. My instinct was to erase the memory, to pretend that time “didn’t count.” But of course, everything we experience shapes who we are, and denial doesn’t erase reality.

The turning point came when I decided to stop ignoring my own fantasies and start analyzing them. I realized that what interests me is not graphic details or degrading scenarios, but rather the dynamic of tenderness, affection, and sometimes even themes of vulnerability or exposure. I don’t enjoy humiliation or cruelty—I find myself disturbed by it. What I actually long for is care, respect, and the emotional side of intimacy.

Acknowledging this was liberating. It showed me that my fantasies don’t have to match what society—or even my younger self—thought they should be. More importantly, I learned that having sexual thoughts isn’t inherently wrong. They are part of being human, just like hunger or fatigue.

That said, indulgence can become a problem. Fantasies are natural, but if they consume my energy to the point where I avoid daily tasks, they become harmful. The challenge is not to deny their existence, but to manage them with awareness.

In the end, I’ve come to accept that fantasies exist, and they exist strongly in my life. The key is not suppression, but perspective: recognizing what they reveal about me, using them as a tool for self-understanding, and learning when to enjoy them and when to let them go.

Sexuality should not be treated as ful. What matters is how we respond to it—whether with blind indulgence, or with mindful reflection.

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I feel that I’ve made real progress by taking the time to analyze my own fantasies. I realized that they are not something to simply ignore, as my mother once suggested—not something to dismiss or pretend doesn’t exist.

They do exist, and in fact, they play a significant role in my life. The right approach, then, is not to deny them, but to acknowledge and understand them. First, I need to face my own attitude toward these desires, and then I can consider how to manage them in a healthier way.

Fantasies, after all, are natural. Desire arises as spontaneously as hunger or thirst; it’s a normal physiological response of being human. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that.

The problem begins not with their existence, but with overindulgence. The very word “indulgence” suggests a lack of balance. Desire, if left unchecked, can easily lead to excess, which then becomes harmful.

For example, I might know I should get up to wash and start my day. But if I lose myself in fantasies, I may procrastinate, becoming sluggish and drained of energy. Without those distractions, I might have the momentum to spring out of bed and move forward.

This is how I understand it now: acknowledging the existence of fantasies and desires is healthier than pretending they don’t exist. Whether right or wrong, they are part of me. The real question is not whether to have them, but whether I can choose to indulge or restrain them in a way that serves me.