Separating Fantasy from Reality (and Putting It Back Together Again)

Are your BDSM fantasies clashing with real-life relationships? Learn how to separate fantasy from reality, understand constraints, and intentionally design scenes and D/s dynamics that feel real and exciting.

Anyone reading my articles—or any articles related to BDSM, for that matter—most likely has a pretty rich fantasy life. They imagine extravagant, sexy scenes with perfect partners who can easily fulfill every desire—even the ones we might feel ashamed of in real life. A rich erotic imagination is normal and healthy. It’s not even a problem when we want to act out some of our fantasies. The problem arises when we try to do so and forget that we are dealing with real people, real limitations, and real consequences.

It’s a very tight line to walk. Fantasy is what makes it arousing, exciting, and invigorating, while reality is difficult, messy, and obstructive. So we must learn to consciously and carefully blend the two—maximizing the fun while minimizing the harm.

Why Is It Important to Separate Fantasy from Reality?

In a previous life, I was an architectural designer. Ask any designer, and they will tell you that what actually shapes a building isn’t fantastical ideas of extravagant structures with curved walls blending into floors (I love curves and made plenty of designs like this). It’s the real-world constraints—resources, logistics, physics, budget, zoning laws, and so on. Constraints are not limitations to an architect; they are opportunities. Without them, an idea remains in the fantasy realm of potential and possibility but never sees the light of day because it can’t be created in the real world.

Sex and relationships work in a very similar way. We can have elaborate fantasies in our minds, but if we are to experience them in any meaningful way, we must accept the constraints of reality—emotions, partner limits and boundaries, skill levels, laws and social norms, differences in desire, attachment styles, context, and more. Yet we avoid discussing these things because they are “unsexy.”

The problem is that when these realities are left unspoken, that’s exactly where people end up hurt, frustrated, disappointed, regretful, or resentful. Without integrating the constraints of reality into the process of bringing fantasies to life, people feel used and interchangeable. Boundaries and limits get crossed. Scenes fall short and feel flat or empty. Eventually, people burn out from unrealistic expectations. Fantasies—which were once rich sources of energy—drain us so much that we’d rather shut them off and forget about them.

Of course, we can’t. So they become a source of torment—for ourselves or for our partners.

Instead, we have to learn to work with reality, not against it.

How to Separate Fantasy from Reality

Most of our challenges in distinguishing fantasy from reality show up in three areas:

• In our scenes
• In our partners
• In our lifestyle

Let’s address each one.

Fantasy in Scenes

This is the most obvious place. We have fantasies tucked away in our mental spank bank, and we want to make them real. It might be a specific roleplay, finally experiencing a certain type of play like primal play or degradation, or feeling particular sensations from something like a yoni massage. Whatever it is, we’ve built a detailed mental construction of exactly how it will unfold and how it will feel.

However, when you finally decide to act it out, it’s rare for the scene to match your imagination exactly—because you haven’t accounted for the very real constraints required to bring it to life. 

These may include:

• Skills needed by each partner: A shibari scene sounds incredible, but it requires skill from both the person tying and the person being tied. You may have a long road of learning and practice before your fantasy can fully become reality.
• Desires of each person: If you examine your fantasy closely, you’ll likely notice that both people are embodying a particular emotional tone—often enthusiasm or deep desire. But if your partner isn’t genuinely into it, it will be difficult, if not impossible, to fake authentic desire.
• Boundaries and limitations: Every real person has them. Fantasy characters do not. If you treat a real partner like a fantasy figure, you risk hurting them—mentally or physically.
• Logistics: Time, location, money, toys, and other resources all matter. These practical elements determine what is actually possible. Even something as simple as costumes or props can dramatically affect how immersive a roleplay feels.
• Consequences: Public play can be thrilling, but laws restrict how and where it can happen. CNC may sound exhilarating, but without proper preparation and negotiation, it can have long-term psychological consequences. Educating yourself about the risks and outcomes of your actions is essential.
• Confidence level: In fantasy, we don’t face social rejection—unless that’s part of the scenario. In reality, we can feel judged. That fear can make us timid, ashamed, or hesitant to embrace our fantasies—or to participate in someone else’s.
• Commitments: Existing relationship structures and prior agreements may make certain fantasies unattainable without thoughtful discussion—at least if you want to navigate them ethically.
• Health and body realities: Fantasy bodies bend in any direction, always perform flawlessly, have no limitations, and fit perfectly together. Real bodies get tired, sick, sore, and require accommodations.

Identifying these constraints and working through them is what actually makes fantasy possible. If you’re a Dom or a Top, this is precisely the work required to create powerful scenes. You gather this information ahead of time, design the experience intentionally, and your submissive gains the opportunity to surrender without worry.

Two tools can help with this process: a sex menu—which allows you to gather information about needs, desires, boundaries, and limits related to sexual and BDSM activities—and structured processes for having difficult conversations, which help uncover the emotional dynamics underlying many of these constraints.

Fantasy in Partners

The next area where we often struggle to separate fantasy from reality is in our partners. We all create checklists of ideal traits and qualities we want someone to have. We look for partners who match our ideals and share our values. Unfortunately, in the process, we often end up constructing a chimera—an imagined creature that doesn’t truly exist in the real world.

When we find someone who begins to resemble this fantasy figure, we quickly try to capture them and fit them into a predefined role—our set of expectations about who they’re supposed to be. We ignore or shame the parts that don’t neatly align with the image we’ve created. We don’t fully accept the person; we accept only the fantasy they fulfill.

Something I’ve personally noticed as I’ve gained a bit of popularity is that when someone expresses interest in me, they often describe the qualities they’re looking for. As I listen, what I hear are the traits of a good Dom. That’s fantastic. You’re looking for a good Dom—sometimes one with niche emotional intelligence skills. You’re looking for someone to fill a role, someone who matches your fantasy. And although the selection pool may be limited, essentially any Dom with those qualities could fill it.

But what is it about me?

Because the moment I step outside your mental depiction—by expressing a flavor of dominance you hadn’t envisioned, not always showing up in peak form, or revealing the very human qualities we tend to disown or shame—what happens then?

I don’t blame anyone for this. I look for specific qualities too. I do the same thing. And I don’t blame myself either. We all want to feel desired and chosen. They want to feel that as well.

The practice here isn’t about becoming indiscriminately open to everyone without discernment. Some people truly aren’t great fits for you (or so you believe). The practice is about accepting the full humanity of the people you do choose. It’s about remembering that the person who perfectly fits your fantasy also has the potential to be the opposite—to disappoint you, frustrate you, or even become your worst nightmare. They are human. They have constraints, lives, emotions, and fantasies of their own that you will need to compromise with and work alongside.

To separate fantasy from reality, here are some of my favorite questions to ask myself:

• If absolutely nothing changed about this person, could I accept them just as they are?
• What parts of this person am I actively dismissing or avoiding?
• What does this person look like on a random Tuesday at 3 p.m.?
• How does this person behave at their “worst”?
• What does this person need or desire in order to interact with me?

These aren’t exhaustive questions. They are designed to interrupt fantasy thinking and help you observe the real person sitting in front of you. They are what make a relationship real.

In long-term relationships, the first question becomes an ongoing meditation. We are humans before we are Dom, sub, or any other role you might try to squeeze us into.

Fantasy in Lifestyle

Another area where fantasy and reality often blur—especially for those new to the lifestyle—is in expectations about how it’s actually lived.

The most extreme example is the idea of what a lived 24/7 dynamic truly looks like. This misunderstanding is easy to make because most of the lifestyle happens behind closed doors. The only depictions many people have are fantasies—either from their own mental imagery or from media portrayals.

We also tend to overestimate the skill level of others—or underestimate how much skill is required to bring certain fantasies into reality.

And we fantasize about partners instinctively knowing exactly what to do, without us ever having to initiate an uncomfortable or awkward conversation.

In reality, you’ll spend a significant amount of time at the beginning in self-reflection, figuring out what you actually want. Then you’ll have a series of imperfect, sometimes bumpy conversations trying to explain those desires to someone else. There will be misunderstandings—because they may not be great at listening, and you may not yet be great at articulating. You’ll need to learn the skills and techniques behind what you want to practice. You’ll need to understand the risks and the aftercare. And you’ll likely try—and fail—more than a few times. You’ll have even more difficult conversations, especially when mistakes are made (and they will be).

After enough time and practice, you may begin to reach a level of confidence that allows you to engage more consistently and weave the dynamic into other areas of your life. And that’s when you encounter the challenges of everyday reality.

You’ll realize your list of 100 rules is unrealistic. You may discover that having multiple slaves at your beck and call sounds good on paper, but in practice you don’t have the time, energy, or resources to responsibly care for multiple people—or that you sometimes crave alone time when no one needs anything from you. You may learn that just because you’re submitting doesn’t mean your Dom is omnipresent, and you’ll still have to make decisions on Thursday afternoon when your boss assigns you an important project.

You might imagine a lifestyle that is high protocol, full-throttle kink all the time. In truth, even most 24/7 dynamics don’t look like that.

Instead, a 24/7 lifestyle typically means you’ve committed to making this dynamic a foundational part of your life—but how it’s expressed must coexist with all your other commitments. Work, family, health, finances, social obligations—all of it still exists.

The challenge is that this version doesn’t sound as sexy. It sounds like work—and it is. Just like building something from a blueprint is work.

But here’s the part that often gets overlooked: that work doesn’t have to be miserable. In fact, it can be deeply pleasurable—if you allow it to be. We become so fixated on the destination of our fantasy that we miss the intimate, pleasurable, life-changing moments along the way.

There are laughs, surprises, and bursts of excitement in those early days of learning new skills. There are powerful moments of connection and intimacy as you reveal yourselves to each other in awkward, messy conversations. There are creative, unexpected ways you learn to live a D/s lifestyle as you navigate the constraints of real life—ways that ultimately make your dynamic uniquely yours, rather than a carbon copy of someone else’s fantasy depiction.

How to Integrate Fantasy into Reality

Of course, one of the reasons we’re drawn to this lifestyle is fantasy. We crave something that contrasts with our everyday lives. So we don’t want to throw the baby out with the bathwater. Instead, we want to integrate our fantasies into reality.

We’ve already begun this process by identifying the real-world constraints we’re working with. These are the elements we must address to make our fantasies tangible—just as an architect must account for the laws of physics to ensure a design can actually stand.

Along the way, we may discover that certain aspects of a fantasy are unrealistic—or would require so much time, energy, or cost that they’re simply not worth it. That realization can feel discouraging, but it doesn’t have to be. Behind every fantasy lies a set of emotions and sensations we want to experience. What produces those emotions and sensations, however, can often be adapted to something more attainable.

For example, a feeling of restraint can be achieved with intricate rope work or with bondage tape. The former requires significantly more skill than the latter, yet both may evoke a similar emotional experience.

To explore this more deeply, I recommend an erotic journaling practice—a space where you can thoughtfully examine your fantasies and arousal patterns.

In your journal, create four columns: Fantasy, Feelings, Activity Triggers, and Partner Triggers.

As you begin, try to avoid analyzing where your desires came from. Just because you have a particular desire doesn’t mean you ever have to act on it. This exercise is about understanding your erotic triggers so you can incorporate them into your sex life in ways that are safe and fulfilling.

Start with one fantasy and examine it closely. Practice visualizing the erotic image as vividly as possible. Through visualization, you can explore the emotional and sensory details that make it arousing and gain insight into what fuels its excitement.

Next, identify how this fantasy makes you feel. What emotions does it evoke? Why focus on emotions? Because some fantasies may be difficult—or even impossible—to fulfill, whether alone or with a partner. Some may feel too dark to enact in real life. But if you understand the emotion beneath the fantasy, you may be able to recreate that emotional experience through different actions with less risk.

For instance, if you have a capture-and-takedown CNC (consensual non-consent) fantasy, beginning with light bondage and intense dirty talk might evoke a similar emotional charge. In some cases, you may never need to fully enact the fantasy unless you consciously decide that you want to.

From there, identify what elements within the fantasy trigger the emotion. Is it the environment? The dynamic between partners? Specific acts? Physical positioning? Tone of voice? Identify what makes it feel “spicy” to you.

Then consider what other activities or partner qualities might evoke the same emotional response—even if they aren’t part of the original fantasy. Record those under the appropriate columns.

This exercise isn’t meant to create a rigid checklist of must-have elements—especially regarding partner qualities. Rather, it expands the range of possibilities available to you. It helps you understand the emotions and sensations you’re seeking so you can consciously cultivate them.

Even if certain partner traits feel important, you can now consciously invite your partner to roleplay them rather than unconsciously expecting them to permanently embody them. You give them the opportunity to step into a role during play—and step out when returning to everyday life.

From there, integration becomes a matter of developing personas, understanding levels of protocol, and engaging intentionally in roleplay. Or it may mean transforming ordinary moments into erotic ones.

One of my favorite examples is the simple act of getting a glass of water in a Dom/sub dynamic. In everyday life, it’s mundane. But with intention, it can shift from casually handing someone a glass to kneeling naked before your Sir in an act of devoted service. The action itself is simple. The meaning layered onto it is what turns reality into fantasy—and fantasy into lived experience.

Where Fantasy Meets the Real World

Fantasy isn’t the problem. And reality doesn’t have to be dull.

What matters is your ability to consciously move between the two without confusing them. See the world—and the people in it—as they actually are. Acknowledge the constraints of your desires instead of pretending they don’t exist. Constraints aren’t enemies of eroticism; they’re the framework that makes it sustainable.

When you understand reality clearly, you gain the power to design intentionally. You stop chasing impossible images and start crafting real experiences. You learn which parts of your fantasy are essential, which are flexible, and which are simply unrealistic. You discover that what you truly crave isn’t always the exact scenario—but the emotion beneath it.

Fantasy gives you inspiration. Reality gives you structure.

Together, they allow you to create something more fulfilling than you could have imagined.