Author: Friday Nancy Title: My secret garden Women's Sexual Fantasies Year: Link download: ronaldweinland.info FOREWORD by. My Secret Garden by Nancy Friday - Free download as PDF File .pdf), Text File . txt) or read online for free. Welcome to Nancy Friday's secret garden, a hidden. Editorial Reviews. ronaldweinland.info Review. This book caused quite a ruckus when it was released download My Secret Garden: Read Books Reviews - ronaldweinland.info .
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staggeringly high heels-isn't that why God gave femdoms sissies and slaves? can't respect Secret Magazine Issue Masonic Secrets Revealed - Secrets of the . Nancy Friday - My Secret Garden · Read more My Secret Garden: Women's Sexual Fantasies My Garden in Autumn and Winter (My Garden Series). First published in , My Secret Garden ignited a firestorm of reactions across the nation—from outrage to enthusiastic support. Collected from detailed.
She had what I consider a perfect wedding — romantic, glamorous, inexpensive and private — and the reason I know about it is that Cosmopolitan Magazine covered the event in its April issue. The article was titled "Marry the Man Today…in Rome," and when the manuscript of My Secret Garden was sent to me for comment, I dug out Cosmopolitan and took another look at the author. My memory was accurate. Nancy Friday looks like a former Miss America — pretty, wholesome, well-scrubbed, glowing. Too many people assume that anyone who has sexual fantasies is mentally sick or oversexed — or both! Admittedly, the reader will at times have to fight off shock, prurient interest and distaste while reading My Secret Garden. This is no coffee-table book.
But he did not think my football fantasy was either humorous or playful. As I said, he just left. His anger and the shame he made me feel which writing this book has helped me to realize I still resent was the beginning of the end for us. Until that moment his cry had always been "More! Shyness was not my style, but sexually I was still my mother's daughter. He had freed me, I felt, from this inappropriate maidenly constraint with which I could not intellectually identify, but from which I could not bodily escape.
Proud of me for my efforts, he made me proud of myself, too. I loved us both. Looking back over my shoulder now at my anything-goes lover, I can see that I was only too happily enacting his indirectly stated Pygmalion -- D.
Lawrence fantasies. But mine? He didn't want to hear about them.
I was not to coauthor this fascinating script on How To Be Nancy, even if it was my life. I was not to act, but to be acted upon. Where are you now, old lover of mine? If you were put off by my fantasy of "the other man," what would you have thought of the one about my Great Uncle Henry's Dalmatian dog?
Or the one member of my family that you liked, Great Uncle Henry himself, as he looked in the portrait over my mother's piano, back when men wore moustaches that tickled, and women long skirts. Could you see what Great Uncle Henry was doing to me under the table?
Only it wasn't me; I was disguised as a boy. Or was I? It didn't matter. It doesn't, with fantasies. They exist only for their elasticity, their ability to instantly incorporate any new character, image or idea or, as in dreams, to which they bear so close a relationship -- to contain conflicting ideas simultaneously.
They expand, heighten, distort or exaggerate reality, taking one further, faster in the direction in which the unashamed unconscious already knows it wants to go. They present the astonished self with the incredible, the opportunity to entertain the impossible. There were other lovers, and other fantasies. But I never introduced the two again. Until I met my husband.
The thing about a good man is that he brings out the best in you, desires all of you, and in seeking out your essence, not only accepts all he finds, but settles for nothing less. He brought my fantasies back into the open again from those depths where I had prudently decided they must live -- vigorous and vivid as ever, yes, but never to be spoken aloud again.
I'll never forget his reaction when timidly, vulnerable, and partially ashamed, I decided to risk telling him what I had been thinking. Were you really thinking that? My fantasies to him were a sudden unveiling of a new garden of pleasure, as yet unknown to him, into which I would invite him.
Marriage released me from many things, and led me into others. If my fantasies seemed so revealing and imaginative to my husband, why not include them in the novel I was writing? It was about a woman, of course, and there must be other readers besides my husband, men and other women too, who would be intrigued by a new approach to what goes on in a woman's mind. I did indeed devote one entire chapter in the book to a long idyllic reverie of the heroine's sexual fantasies.
I thought it was the best thing in the book, the stuff of which the novels I had most admired were made.
But my editor, a man, was put off. He had never read anything like it, he said the very point of writing a novel, I thought. Her fantasies made the heroine sound like some kind of sexual freak, he said. Why do men seek prostitutes to perform certain acts when they have perfectly layable ladies at home?
Why do husbands download their wives black lace G-strings and nipple-exposing bras, except in pursuit of fantasies of their own? In Italy, men scream "Madonna mia" when they come, and it is not uncommon, we learn in Eros Denied, for an imaginative Englishman to pay a lady for the privilege of eating the strawberry cream puff like Nanny used to make she has kindly stuffed up her cunt.
Why is it perfectly respectable and continually commercial for cartoons to dwell on the sidewalk figure of Joe Average eyeing the passing luscious blonde, while in the balloon drawn over his head he puts her through the most exotic paces?
My God! Far from being thought reprehensible, this last male fantasy is thought amusing, family fun, something a father can share with his son. Men exchange sexual fantasies in the barroom, where they are called dirty jokes; the occasional man who doesn't find them amusing is thought to be odd man out. Blue movies convulse bachelor dinners and salesmen's conventions.
And when Henry Miller, D. Lawrence and Norman Mailer -- to say nothing of Genet -- put their fantasies on paper, they are recognized for what they can be: art. The sexual fantasies of men like these are called novels. Why then, I could have asked my editor, can't the sexual fantasies of women be called the same?
But I said nothing. My editor's insinuation, like my former lover's rejection, hit me where I was most sensitive: in that area where women, knowing least about each other's true sexual selves, are most vulnerable. What is it to be a woman? Was I being unfeminine? It is one thing not to have doubted the answer sufficiently to ever have asked the question of yourself at all. But it is another to know that question has suddenly been placed in someone else's mind, to be judged there in some indefinable, unknown, unimaginable competition or comparison.
What indeed was it to be a woman? Some women fantasize in order to find the approval lacking in their intimate relationships while others do it because it is a safe way to explore sexual play in which they might not be willing to indulge in reality.
Finally, some women fantasize to pass the day or to have a focus for masturbation, while others are simply unsatisfied in their reality. Once Ms. Friday establishes the reasons why women fantasize, she begins to explore the themes that are present in almost every woman's fantasies. Friday presents sixteen themes that have been common to all the fantasies presented to her in her research for this book.
These themes include being made love to by a stranger, or in front of an audience. Others include women who like to imagine being raped or physically beaten, while others like the idea of being completely dominated by a sexual partner. In that same vein, some themes include the idea of losing control or doing something that is completely forbidden, while others include the theme of transformation.
Friday also suggests that some fantasies revolve around the idea of being motherly, caring for a lover, or even committing incest with various family members. Some of the more inventive themes include the use of animals or men outside of the woman's race, as well as young men or women. Finally, Ms. Friday includes the themes of fetishes and prostitution, but points out to her readers that only one woman spoke of a fetish and no women who responded to her request for fantasies mentioned the idea of being a prostitute, despite the fact that most experts believe prostitution is the most common theme of a woman's fantasies.
Next, Ms. Friday tackles the source of most women's fantasies. She had what I consider a perfect wedding — romantic, glamorous, inexpensive and private — and the reason I know about it is that Cosmopolitan Magazine covered the event in its April issue.
The article was titled "Marry the Man Today…in Rome," and when the manuscript of My Secret Garden was sent to me for comment, I dug out Cosmopolitan and took another look at the author.
My memory was accurate. Nancy Friday looks like a former Miss America — pretty, wholesome, well-scrubbed, glowing. Too many people assume that anyone who has sexual fantasies is mentally sick or oversexed — or both!
Admittedly, the reader will at times have to fight off shock, prurient interest and distaste while reading My Secret Garden. This is no coffee-table book. Nor should it be left around where children might pick it up. My Secret Garden could bring plain brown paper wrappers back into vogue, for not only is it a serious, informative study of a facet of human sexuality that has been largely ignored, it is also painfully personal, uncompromisingly candid and unabashedly erotic.
There has never been anything quite like it. You are going to have to force yourself at times to remember that this is a clinical work. I began to be interested in sexual fantasies several years ago when I realized how much you could learn about the person you love by examining his or her fantasies. Nor will you have achieved complete trust and intimacy until you have been able to share your fantasies with each other and have them accepted.