The Existential 'Rape' Fantasy
(You Know You Want It, You Just Don’t Want to Admit It)
I keep saying I want to lose weight.
I say I want to feel sharper, stronger, hotter in my own skin.
And yet?
I don’t change my habits.
I don’t stop doing the things I know keep the extra pounds on me.
For a while, I told myself it was because I was tired. Or busy. Or that I rejected “diet culture.”
But eventually, I had to ask harder questions:
What am I getting out of staying exactly as I am?
What am I avoiding being responsible for?
The answer hit like a punch:
The weight is camouflage.
It’s my last way to hide in plain sight.
My Cover Story
I can write truths that make people squirm. (I mean, look at this title…)
My pen spits fire.
I don’t flinch at shadow work or erotic power.
But I’ve been hiding behind a body that says:
“Don’t look too closely. Don’t make this about me.
Pay attention to my work, but keep your eyes off the woman writing it.”
And deep down, there’s a part of me praying to be found anyway.
Praying to be plucked from the crowd, pointed at, and told:
“You. You belong here. You’re meant for more.”
So I can finally stop hiding—
without ever having to be the one who stepped forward and said:
“Look at me, I built this.”
The Existential Rape Fantasy
That’s what I now recognize as an existential rape fantasy.
And let’s be clear:
This isn’t about sex or violence.
It’s about power.
Just like a literal rape fantasy, it’s not about wanting to be hurt or harmed.
It’s about wanting to be ruined and undone—
wanting something so badly but needing a story that makes it safe when you retell it:
“I didn’t choose it, it happened to me. I was taken. It wasn’t my fault. I was forced.”
It’s a fantasy built for plausible deniability:
I want this thing, but I don’t want to carry the weight of choosing it.
Not because I’m ashamed of wanting it,
but because choosing it means I have to hold all of it:
the consequences, the ripple effects, the people who don’t understand why I did it,
the people who will judge me, misunderstand me, maybe even walk away.
Choosing it means I have to let my choice stand without needing anyone else to validate it as ‘right.’
And that’s what terrifies me—
not wanting itself, but holding the full power and fallout of choosing.
So I dream of being forced into it,
so I can have it without ever having to live with the power of saying,
“I chose this.”
We All Have Them
Maybe yours doesn’t look like extra pounds and hiding behind your body.
But I know you have one.
Here are six of the most common existential rape fantasies I see:
1. The Freedom-Without-Responsibility Fantasy
What you really want but won’t say:
For someone else to tell you what to do so you don’t have to choose.
You pretend you’re confused, overwhelmed, or “not ready”—but deep down, you know exactly what you want.
The fantasy?
That someone takes you by the shoulders, points in a direction, and says:
“Go. This is what’s next for you.”
So you can surrender to momentum and say,
“It wasn’t me—they told me this was the way”—
even though it’s exactly what you wanted all along.
2. The Exposure Fantasy
What you really want but won’t say:
To be fully visible—seen, known, and unforgettable.
But declaring that means choosing judgment, scrutiny, and the risk of being misunderstood.
The fantasy?
That someone rips the curtain off and drags you into the spotlight—
forces people to look at you and listen to you—
so you never have to risk saying,
“I wanted to be seen this much.”
3. The Destruction Fantasy
What you really want but won’t say:
To leave the job, the marriage, or the life you hate.
But declaring that means facing judgment, perhaps even hurting people you love. You’ll be labeled: selfish, reckless, cruel.
The fantasy?
That someone forces the ending for you:
a layoff, a cheating spouse, an illness that shakes everything loose—
anything that gives you permission to walk away
without ever having to say:
“I wanted out. I wanted different, and I don’t care what you think.”
4. The Boundaries Fantasy
What you really want but won’t say:
To stop giving so much and finally rest.
But saying no feels selfish, ungrateful, even dangerous.
The fantasy?
That someone forces your boundary into place: cancels the plans, locks the door, shields you from others—
so you never have to risk saying,
“I don’t want to give this much.”
5. The Rescue Fantasy
What you really want but won’t say:
To stop holding everything together—to not have to be strong every second of every day.
But asking for help feels like failure, weakness, or burdening someone else.
The fantasy?
That someone scoops you up or ties you up and takes over: pays the bill, makes the decisions, carries the weight—
so you can finally breathe and say,
“ I didn’t ask for this, I had no choice.”
6. The Permission Fantasy
What you really want but won’t say:
Exactly what you want—the relationship, the success, the freedom, the erotic life you ache for.
But claiming it feels like too much; you don’t want to look selfish, slutty, arrogant, or “unrealistic.”
The fantasy?
That someone grants you explicit permission: tells you it’s okay, you’re allowed, you’re worthy—
so when you take it, you can say,
“They told me I could.”
The Hard Truth
These fantasies aren’t about weakness.
They’re about avoidance—
a way to secure plausible deniability for your own desire.
Just like any rape fantasy, you’re not really dreaming of force or harm.
You’re dreaming of being taken out of choice,
so when you retell the story, you can say:
“It happened to me. I didn’t ask for it. I’m innocent.”
But innocence has a cost:
You never step into your full power.
You never touch what you truly want with both hands and say,
“This is mine, I chose it.”
Your Turn
So I’ll ask you the question I had to ask myself:
Where are you rehearsing helplessness so you don’t have to own your wanting?
What are you secretly waiting for someone else to choose for you, so you don’t have to claim it?
Because that’s the map out of the fantasy.
And the only way out is through your own declaration:
I want this. I chose it. And I’ll own what comes next.
This is the level of honesty we live inside The Wet Club.
We don’t perform power here—we strip down to the fantasies, the avoidance, and the raw places we’ve been too scared to claim.
Doors to TWC open soon.
If you think you need permission, here it is.
The Wet Club is where we stop waiting to be taken and start owning what we want.
Doors open soon.
Get on The Wet List and claim your spot—
before you start fantasizing about someone forcing you into that, too.
This wasn’t what I expected but what I needed.