Why Santa Is the Ultimate Fantasy
The erotic power of getting what we want without having to ask
Santa Claus takes away all the effort of learning to ask for what you want, leaving behind only the indulgence of getting it. With Santa, you never have to tell your mom or dad what you need. You don’t need to go to therapy or do another goddamned healing-the-inner-child workbook. Just straddle a snowy-haired man’s lap and cry out for what you want, and it will materialize, a few days later, while you are sleeping. You don’t even have to debase yourself by saying “thank you.”
This easy generosity makes Santa Claus sexy. But he’s enticing for many other reasons, too. He’s luscious, warm, and red, the color of flushed genitals, fire embers, the devil, and the heart. He’s vividly alive, with a winsome grin that says he’s as down to fuck as he is to make us a quiche or rub our feet. As we find ourselves balls deep into cuffing season, what more could we ask for than a supple, flush-faced lover, forever equally ready to cuddle on the couch?
Santa blends familiarity with self-indulgence, childhood innocence with greed. He’s a boyfriend, a loving father figure, a servant, and a God.
Santa’s whole existence is that of a proxy, a person who will meet the needs you’re too ashamed to request from the person who can…
