Why Does My Brain Keep Going There? The Psychology of Unwanted or Confusing Sexual Fantasies
- Holly Wood

- Jun 2
- 9 min read

If you have ever caught yourself fantasizing about something that made you think, “Wait — why did my brain go there?” you are far from alone. Maybe it was a scenario that felt morally complicated. Maybe it involved someone you would never actually pursue, a situation you would never want to act on, or a theme that genuinely confused or embarrassed you. For many people, the experience of having a recurring sexual fantasy that feels strange, taboo, or at odds with their values is one of the most privately distressing aspects of their inner life.
Here is the reassuring truth: the science suggests that what your brain fantasizes about is not a direct window into what you secretly want, who you really are, or what you are capable of doing. Sexual fantasies are one of the most universal and psychologically complex aspects of human experience — and understanding why the brain generates them, especially the confusing ones, can be genuinely freeing.
In this post, we will walk through what current research actually says about sexual fantasy, why some fantasies persist even when you find them uncomfortable, how your brain uses fantasy as an emotional tool, and how to think about all of this in a healthy, grounded way.
And if you would rather watch than read, feel free to check out my YouTube video on this topic!
Sexual Fantasies Are Far More Common — and Normal — Than You Think
One of the first things researchers consistently find when they study sexual fantasy is just how universal it is. A contemporary review by Lehmiller and Gormezano (2023) concluded that very few sexual fantasy themes are statistically unusual. In other words, the themes that people privately worry make them abnormal or broken are often shared by enormous numbers of other people — they just never talk about it.
The same review found meaningful variation in fantasy content across gender, sexual orientation, and culture, but also striking similarities. When researchers move beyond the typical young, heterosexual, North American study participant, broader and more diverse patterns emerge — and the overarching conclusion remains consistent: fantasy content is wide-ranging, and pathologizing it is usually unwarranted (Lehmiller & Gormezano, 2023).
People also report a wide range of motivations for fantasizing, including arousal and pleasure, curiosity and exploration, processing unmet emotional or relational needs, stress relief and mental escape, and exploring themes that feel taboo or “forbidden” in a safe mental space (Lehmiller, 2018). This is important because it explains why someone might keep returning to a fantasy that, on the surface, seems strange or even distressing: the fantasy may be serving a real psychological function, even if the content itself feels uncomfortable.
Fantasy Is Not the Same as Desire — and Certainly Not Intent
One of the clearest and most consistent findings in the literature is this: fantasizing about something does not mean you want it in real life.
This distinction — between fantasy and intent — is one of the most clinically important concepts in sex therapy and sex research. Researchers have found that fantasy content and actual sexual behavior can diverge sharply, particularly when the fantasy involves themes that are taboo, coercive, or socially unacceptable (Stefanska, Longpré, & Rogerson, 2024). A study examining the relationship between atypical sexual fantasies, behavior, and pornography consumption found that the presence of unusual fantasy content was a poor predictor of whether someone would actually seek out or act on those themes in real life.

This matters enormously for how we interpret our own inner lives. Many people quietly carry shame about a recurring fantasy, convinced it must reveal something sinister or broken about them. But the research does not support that conclusion. The presence of a fantasy — even a dark or morally complex one — does not make someone a bad person, nor does it indicate a desire to harm anyone.
There is also genuine nuance in how researchers interpret fantasy content. Some frameworks treat unusual fantasies as signs of repression, guilt, or unmet needs. Others argue they may simply reflect erotic flexibility — an openness and imaginative range that has nothing to do with pathology (Lehmiller & Gormezano, 2023). The same fantasy can mean very different things depending on the person, the emotional context, and the role it plays in that person’s inner world.
Why Taboo Fantasies Can Feel So Persistent: The Erotic Equation
So if you do not want to act on a fantasy — why does it keep coming back?
One of the most compelling answers comes from the work of sex therapist and researcher Jack Morin (1995), whose framework of eroticism helps explain why the brain so often gravitates toward emotionally charged, complicated, or forbidden territory.
Morin proposed that eroticism is powered not by simplicity and ease, but by tension and friction. His famous formulation — attraction + obstacles = excitement — captures something researchers and clinicians have observed repeatedly: erotic charge often grows precisely because something feels forbidden, difficult, or emotionally loaded.

He identified four core cornerstones of erotic experience that contribute to this dynamic: longing and anticipation (the power of what is not yet obtained), violating prohibitions (transgressing rules or taboos), searching for power (dynamics of control, surrender, dominance, or vulnerability), and overcoming ambivalence (the tension between wanting something and feeling conflicted about it).
This framework helps explain why a fantasy can feel compelling even when it also feels uncomfortable, confusing, or morally fraught. The discomfort itself may be part of what gives it erotic charge. This does not mean that distress is always eroticized, or that suffering is inherently erotic — but it does mean that tension and ambivalence can function as fuel for the erotic imagination in a way that perfectly pleasant, uncomplicated scenarios often do not (Morin, 1995).
There is also a neurological layer worth understanding: the brain tends to link arousal to whatever is emotionally charged, novel, or repeated — regardless of whether the person consciously endorses the content. This is why a fantasy might actually become more entrenched the more someone tries to suppress it. Attempting to push a thought away while in a heightened emotional state can strengthen the neural association between that thought and arousal, a process cognitive scientists sometimes describe as the “rebounding” effect of thought suppression (Wegner, 1994).
When Fantasy Becomes a Coping Strategy
Another reason certain fantasies persist — particularly ones that feel intrusive or disconnected from who you think you are — is that they may be functioning as a form of emotional regulation.

Research consistently shows that people use sexual fantasy not just for arousal, but to relax, reduce anxiety, and temporarily escape from stress (Lehmiller, 2018). When a particular fantasy reliably provides relief from psychological tension, the brain can reinforce it the same way it reinforces any effective coping behavior. In this sense, a confusing or uncomfortable fantasy might keep returning not because it reflects a hidden desire, but because it has become the brain’s go-to tool for managing a specific emotional state.
This is one of the reasons clinicians are cautious about treating fantasy content as a direct confession of a person’s values or identity. Fantasy often functions more like a mental thermostat — regulating internal states — than a behavioral blueprint. The content is frequently symbolic, emotionally condensed, and only loosely (if at all) tied to what the person actually wants in their waking relational life (Lehmiller & Gormezano, 2023).
Think of it this way: the brain does not always choose its coping tools based on their literal content. Just as someone might return to a particular piece of music or a specific memory to self-soothe, the mind can return to a particular fantasy for its emotional texture — the sense of escape, release, or intensity it provides — rather than for its narrative details.
When Should a Fantasy Actually Concern You?
Given all of the above, when is a sexual fantasy something to pay attention to rather than simply accept?
The clinical consensus is that most sexual fantasies — even unusual, taboo, or morally complex ones — are not signs of pathology and do not require intervention. The relevant questions are not about fantasy content per se, but about function and impact:
Does the fantasy cause you significant and ongoing distress that impairs your daily functioning?
Does acting on the fantasy (or the urge to do so) involve harming yourself or another person?
Is the fantasy connected to compulsive behaviors that feel out of control?
If the answer to any of these is yes, speaking with a licensed sex therapist or mental health professional is a reasonable and helpful step. The goal in that context would not typically be to eliminate the fantasy — which is often neither possible nor necessary — but to understand its function, reduce distress, and ensure it is not driving harmful behavior.

If the fantasy is simply surprising, confusing, or at odds with your self-image — but not causing functional harm — the evidence suggests that the most useful thing you can do is reduce the shame around it. Shame tends to amplify the power of intrusive thoughts. Curiosity and non-judgmental self-reflection tend to reduce it.
Fantasy Is Not a Confession of Identity
One of the most liberating insights from contemporary sex research is that fantasy content is a poor guide to identity. People of all sexual orientations, gender identities, and relationship structures report fantasies that do not fit neatly into their real-world preferences. Straight-identified people have same-sex fantasies. People in committed relationships fantasize about others. People who value consent deeply may have fantasies involving power or force. People who consider themselves emotionally gentle may have elaborate fantasies about dominance.
None of these make someone a hypocrite or a fraud. They make someone human. The erotic imagination is capacious, associative, and often indifferent to the values and commitments that organize the rest of a person’s life. Treating it as a confession rather than a phenomenon — something to be curious about rather than ashamed of — tends to produce far better psychological outcomes (Lehmiller, 2018).
The Bottom Line
Sexual fantasies are nearly universal, frequently involve themes that people find surprising or uncomfortable, and are usually not a sign of anything pathological. They are powered by a complex mix of emotional arousal, novelty-seeking, learned associations, the regulating function of the mind under stress, and the erotic friction that Morin so memorably described as the alchemy of attraction and obstacles.
Fantasy content is not equivalent to desire, and desire is not equivalent to intent. The brain generates sexual imagery the way it generates any other kind of imaginative content — associatively, symbolically, and often in service of emotional needs that have little to do with literal wishes.
If you have been quietly carrying shame or confusion about something your mind keeps returning to, the most evidence-supported thing you can do is this: take it less literally. Get curious about what function it might be serving. And remember that the research, by an overwhelming margin, suggests you are not as unusual as you fear.
Thanks for being here. And if you'd rather watch than read, feel free to check out my YouTube channel, The Hollywood Sexologist, where I share evidence-based, shame-free education on sex, relationships, mental health, and intimacy.
References
Lehmiller, J. J. (2018). Tell me what you want: The science of sexual desire and how it can help you improve your sex life. Da Capo.
Lehmiller, J. J., & Gormezano, A. M. (2023). Sexual fantasy research: A contemporary review. Current Opinion in Psychology, 49, 101496. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.copsyc.2022.101496
Morin, J. (1995). The erotic mind. Headline.
Stefanska, E. B., Longpré, N., & Rogerson, H. (2024). Relationship between atypical sexual fantasies, behavior, and pornography consumption. International Journal of Offender Therapy and Comparative Criminology, 68(9), 915–935. https://doi.org/10.1177/0306624X221086569
Wegner, D. M. (1994). Ironic processes of mental control. Psychological Review, 101(1), 34–52. https://doi.org/10.1037/0033-295X.101.1.34

About the author
Dr. Holly is a leading expert in sexual health based in Orange County, certified as both a clinical sexologist and AASECT sex therapist. With extensive experience in sex therapy, sexual wellness, and relationship counseling, Holly provides evidence-based insights to clients in Orange County, the state of California and beyond. Recognized for expertise in sexual trauma recovery, sexual dysfunction, and intimacy, Holly is dedicated to empowering individuals with practical advice and research-backed strategies. For more, follow Holly for expert advice on sexual health and relationships.
Visit www.thehollywoodsexologist.com to learn more and request a consultation.
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