Swingin’ Bachelor Party Vibes (Burning for You)… (2-5) – Commentary

Commentary (The Receipt)

If you’re here, you’ve probably already read Swingin’ Bachelor Party Vibes (Burning for You)… and had a moment of:

“Did this man just spend an unholy amount of time building a new film genre to make a point about obsession?”

Yes.

That’s exactly what I did.

This piece is one of the “quietly personal” ones in Season 2. It looks like it’s about movies and the 60s, but it’s actually about how my brain fixates, and how that same circuitry shows up in kink, relationships, and devotion.

Why the ridiculous movie list exists at all

There’s no grant money for “most complete Swingin’ 60s pop-comedy / beach / jet-set list on the internet.”

I built it because something in me likes total maps:

  • I don’t just want some of a thing.
  • I want the whole constellation.
  • I want to know where the edges are, so I know when something truly belongs.

That’s kink-brain, too.

It’s the same part of me that will:

  • re-check a dynamic for tiny cracks in the power-exchange
  • replay a conversation and sort it into “this is us” / “this is noise”
  • draw invisible lines around what “counts” as mine

The list is a safe example of what my head does when it latches onto a feeling.

The feeling here wasn’t “I want this actress” or “I want this character.”

It was:

“I want this world — this fake, humming, technicolor, horny-but-safe universe — and I want to see all of it.”

So I did what I always do:

I turned that feeling into structure.

That’s what obsession looks like when it’s behaving itself.

Falling into obsession and how it looks like in fiction

You want to talk about obsession on film?

Jimmy Stewart in Vertigo.

He’s not just “in love” with a woman. He’s in love with a version of a woman he built in his head, then forces the real one to cosplay until she disappears. He follows her. Catalogues her. Studies her like she’s a rare print he’s trying to authenticate. And when he finds out she’s “wrong,” he doesn’t walk away.

He edits her.

New hair. New clothes. New walk. New name. New story. He drags her through a makeover montage that’s less “Pretty Woman” and more “taxidermy with a pulse.” He’s not asking, “Who are you?” He’s saying, “Be what I saw. Be what I decided you were before I ever met you.”

Watching him, you can feel how thin the line is between “I adore you” and “I’m going to overwrite you until you match my favorite hallucination.” It’s the same wiring that makes someone like me build a whole secret genre of films… just pointed at a breathing human instead of a concept and movie titles.

The movie gets how seductive that is.

The lighting, the music, the way the camera circles back around when she finally “matches” what he wants — it all feels like a climax. The audience is supposed to feel that hit of relief when the fantasy and the body finally line up.

You can build an altar to a Dom, a Daddy, a Master, a stranger on the internet who says the right words.

Or you can do what Jimmy does in Vertigo and build an altar to your own idea of someone, then drag a real person onto it and call that love.

Which side of that scene are you secretly built for, doll?

My brain as a walking entertainment dataset

Part of why this piece exists is because my head is basically a live archive.

Decades of:

  • films
  • bands
  • TV
  • niche eras
  • kink-adjacent aesthetics
  • all cross-wired with feeling

If you cracked my skull open it would look less like a brain and more like some unlabelled AI dataset that’s been fed a scandalous amount of pop culture and never turned off.

The Swingin’ 60s list is me admitting:

“I don’t just consume things. I index them. I categorize. I build private genres.”

That’s also how I experience people.

Not in the creepy “you’re a project” way.

In the:

“I notice everything. I see patterns. I remember small things you probably thought I’d forget.”

When that’s pointed at film, you get a nerdy list.

When that’s pointed at a person?

You get devotion.

Obsession as neutral gasoline

I don’t think obsession is automatically bad.

I think it’s gasoline.

It can:

  • fuel art
  • fuel self-destruction
  • fuel incredible relationships
  • fuel parasocial trainwrecks

What I was trying to show in the piece is that the mechanism is the same:

  • The part of you that spends three weeks organizing a playlist by mood and weather?
  • The part of you that scrolls filmographies at 2 a.m. to find “one more” from your favorite era?
  • The part of you that can’t rest until the collection feels complete?

That’s the same circuitry that later goes:

“I can’t sleep until I know what they meant by that emoji.”

“I need to understand why they didn’t reply to that one message.”

“I need one more scene, one more call, one more sign they still want me.”

In the post, I used movies as the “safe” object.

But I wanted the reader’s body to quietly recognize:

“Okay… this is also how I fixate on people / Doms / dynamics.”

Without me turning it into a therapy lecture.

What I find hot about healthy obsession

This is where it gets a little confessional.

I don’t love chasing in the traditional sense.

I like being burned for.

Not by just anyone. Not by “followers,” not by strangers who’ve decided I’m their new religion because I wrote a sentence that hit.

What I like — what really turns me on — is when the right person points that obsessive circuitry at me on purpose, inside something we both chose.

So when I say:

“Imagine what I could do if I poured that kind of obsession into you.”

I’m not just being clever.

I mean:

  • I know what my focus can do when I lock onto an idea.
  • If you and I agree on a container — a dynamic, a contract, a shared yes — that same focus becomes service, care, structure, and attention.

And I want the mirror version of that.

Point that kind of focus at me — sanely, consensually, in a container we’ve both agreed on — and yes, I think that’s hot.

Not “stalk my every move, abandon your life” obsession.

The kink-flavored kind where someone says with their choices:

“I want to line myself up with you. I want to remember what you like. I want to carry out what you ask — not because I’m empty, but because this is how I love.”

That’s the flavor that makes sense to me.

Why this isn’t a diagnosis or a drag

I’m not diagnosing anybody with OCD.

I’m not mocking “fangirl” energy.

I’m not saying, “If you’re not obsessive, you can’t be deep.”

This piece is more like:

“Hey, here’s what this pattern can look like before it hits a person. Here’s how it feels when it does. And here’s me owning that I live there more than I don’t.”

If you saw yourself in it and thought:

  • “Shit, I do this with partners,”
  • or “Oh, that’s exactly how I latch onto Doms,”

that doesn’t make you broken.

It just means your flame likes to be aimed.

The risk isn’t that you burn.

The risk is where you point it, and whether the person on the other end actually knows what to do with someone wired like you.

On the companion track: “Burning for You” – Shiny Toy Guns

The original Blue Öyster Cult song is already about being on fire for something in a way that doesn’t fully make sense, living with that slow burn like it’s just part of the deal.

The Shiny Toy Guns cover takes that and makes it:

  • more electronic
  • more cinematic
  • more modern haunted than classic rock

It feels like:

  • standing in neon light
  • oscillating between nostalgia and now
  • knowing you’re “too into” something and not wanting to stop

That’s exactly what this post is doing:

  • It starts with retro, glossy, harmless-seeming 60s sex comedies.
  • It slides into the present tense of “I still work exactly like this — I just point it at different things now.”

The song sits in that tension:

“I am kind of burning myself alive here… and I’m also not putting the fire out.”

Obsession as background radiation.

Desire as a constant hum.

You don’t have to know the cover or the original to get the piece.

But if you listen to it while rereading, you’ll probably feel the same thing I did writing it:

That line where nostalgia, kink, fixation, and wanting-too-much all blend into one long, slow burn.

Cycle II – Coming of Age · 05 · Commentary (v1.00)

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