Fantasy, Interrupted

How conflicting roles can block our erotic expression—and what to do about it

I went to Club Kink Jacksonville this past weekend. I was there to teach a workshop, promote my business, and connect with my community. But I was also feeling my playful, slutty side stirring—Carrie was itching to come out.

I had a specific fantasy in mind. Something I’d been thinking about for a while. And I’d even shared it with a few trusted regulars ahead of time. They were excited. I was excited. But… it never happened.

Because here’s what I’ve come to realize (again): I can be social, or I can be slutty—but I can’t be both. At least not in the same night.

When I go to CKJ to play, I often appear aloof. It’s not because I don’t love the people or the community—I do. But when I’m there to access my erotic energy, I need to drop into a completely different frequency. I watch. I observe. I get turned on by watching others lose themselves. I take in the energy of the dungeon and slowly let it ignite something in me.

That’s when Carrie shows up. She’s my alter ego—the one who is unapologetically sensual, self-possessed, maybe even a little cold and intimidating. She doesn’t do small talk. She doesn’t hang at the bar or belt out karaoke. She prefers shadowy corners and intense eye contact. She thrives in mystery and anticipation.

But this weekend, I wasn’t there as Carrie. I was there as Cat—the warm, grounded, compassionate coach who can hold space for other people’s emotions and create containers for growth and healing. And I’m proud of that version of me. She’s not a persona; she’s real. She’s the part of me that’s been lovingly cultivated through years of somatic work, training, and service.

She’s who my clients and community often need me to be.

But Carrie needs something, too. She needs silence before the storm. She needs space to listen to her own breath. She needs to not be touched until she says so. She needs permission to take up space in a different way—less nurturing, more demanding.

This weekend, those two parts of me were at odds. And ultimately, I chose to stay in the role of Cat. Which was the right call for the evening—but it meant shelving my fantasy and not letting Carrie take the stage.

When Your Erotic Self and Everyday Self Clash

This isn’t just about me. I’ve seen this same dynamic play out in clients, friends, and lovers: the tension between our erotic selves and our everyday selves.

Maybe you have a deeply submissive side, but in your daily life you’re the CEO. Maybe you’re the nurturer, the caregiver, the always-available friend—and what turns you on is being taken, consumed, devoured. Or maybe, like me, your sensuality needs stillness and focus—but your daily life requires you to be extroverted, open, and emotionally available.

It’s not uncommon for our erotic desires to seem “in conflict” with the rest of our personality. But what if they’re not at odds at all? What if they’re just occupying different realms of us—and both deserve their space?

That’s the thing I keep learning over and over: my erotic self doesn’t show up on command. She needs the right container. She needs to be invited, not coerced. And she absolutely needs permission to take over for a little while, without having to explain herself or hold space for others.

So the next time I go to CKJ to play, I’ll be clear. I’ll let people know—lovingly—that I’m not there to socialize. I’m not ignoring them. I’m not upset. I’m just making room for Carrie. Because if I want my fantasy to come to life, I have to bring the version of me who knows how to make it real.

And if you’re someone who struggles to shift gears between “you” and your erotic self—know that you’re not alone. It doesn’t mean you’re broken. It just means you’re complex. And that’s a beautiful thing.

Want to explore the split between your erotic self and your everyday identity?

You’re not alone—and you’re not broken. This is one of the most common themes I support clients with in my work. If you’re curious about your own alter egos, erotic archetypes, or just want a space to explore what turns you on (without judgment), let’s talk. I offer private sessions and personalized coaching to help you reclaim your full, complex, embodied self.