‘My fantasy is set in an office’: What women really want

Gillian Anderson, star of the Netflix series Sex Education, has just published a book called Want, in which she asks women to record their deepest, darkest desires, much in the manner of Nancy Friday’s 1970s bestseller My Secret Garden. Anderson’s correspondents confess to every manner of sexual desire, but are these the only fantasies entertained by today’s overworked woman? Some additions may be in order.

Gillian Anderson in Sex Education.Credit: Netflix

Dear Gillian,
I arrived home from work unexpectedly to find my husband had spent the entire afternoon getting hot and steamy with the au pair. Once I entered the bedroom I could see they’d been at it throughout the afternoon. They’d done all my ironing, every skirt and blouse. They’d also done all the children’s clothes, including the fiddly pleated skirt that’s part of our daughter’s school uniform. Even then the surprises were not over. Astrid – that’s the Swedish au pair – wagged her finger at me and told me not to give a thought to dinner. She was making her mother’s recipe: Swedish meatballs with lingonberries. Yum!

Dear Gillian,
This isn’t a fantasy – it happened! One day, I was invited to a swingers’ party on Sydney’s north shore. I was assured they’d all be people like me, both men and women, but this time it would be the women in charge. How I swooned! This had long been my dream. The party of swingers, it turned out, had a nickname. They called themselves “the Teals”. The room was full of people who’d previously swung between the two main political parties. Now, whatever their gender, they were hoping to increase the number of women in parliament, and – guess what? – it worked. The men were great, handing out leaflets and putting up posters, while the women took on the more dominant role. I know my story sounds unlikely but sometimes dreams do come true.

Dear Gillian,
My partner and I have been together for about 12 years and have always had a normal married life. Then, one day, we went for a barbecue with our neighbours, Marcel and Cecile. They are a good-looking couple who have recently emigrated from France. After a few drinks Marcel said he wanted to show us some literature he’d imported from his homeland. My partner and I were intrigued and went with him into his bedroom. He sat on the bed and pulled out a whole box full of magazines and books, all of them about composting and worm farms. There were pictures of popular techniques – turning over, layering, forking etc – and also of the equipment you could buy. I’m now spending hours with my heap – sometimes making it hotter, sometimes slowing it down, waiting for the moment I can throw off the covers and get dirty. Marcel has suggested we do some composting together, but I’ve decided to take things one step at a time.

Dear Gillian,
I walked into our bedroom at home and couldn’t believe my eyes. My husband had all the items laid out on the bed. My pulse quickened. He’d understood the deep desires that had been gnawing at me. I just wanted to be free – free from the tiny tasks that were always buzzing in my head, such as the need to buy a present for the child’s birthday we were about to attend. Or the need to organise a treat for my elderly mother, a little sunshine to warm her life in the nursing home. Or the need to purchase his brother a birthday present because if I didn’t think to buy it, no one else would. Now, for once, he’d done it all: everything had been purchased without me even asking, all perfectly wrapped and ready to go. I pinched myself. Could I be dreaming? It was then I woke up and realised I was.

Dear Gillian,
My fantasy is set in an office. I’ve often wondered if my boss was able to read my thoughts; whether he knew, from the subtle signals I’ve been sending, what I really want from him. In my fantasy he calls me in and has me sit on the other side of his impressive oak desk. I go to speak but he says: “Let me go first.” He leans back in his chair. “We’ve all seen the quality of your work,” he says, “and we don’t believe employees should have to demand what is their due. That system benefits men over women, as the men are often more assertive in making their case. That’s why we believe in offering an increase in salary as soon as someone has earnt it, which clearly means you.” After that we both stand, he shakes my hand and I return to my workstation, completely and utterly satisfied.

Dear Gillian,
I have this recurring fantasy in which I’m standing on the platform at a busy Sydney train station. There are people everywhere, jostling for position. I can feel the buzz of electricity in the air, my skin tingling in anticipation. Then it happens. The train arrives on time. On board there are plenty of seats. I’m now in my 50s and hope that, one day, my fantasy will come true.

In all cases: “Name and address withheld”. Some fantasies are so unlikely they are best kept to oneself.

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