Your sexual orientation and your sexual habits really bore the crap out of me.
Don’t get me wrong – if your sex life should intertwine with mine, you and your desires will have my full attention. I will turn my ankle just like that if you means you’ll derive pleasure from it. I will rub you in that place that makes you moan like polecat in a snowstorm. No problem.
But if I don’t know you, and if we aren’t intimate, I really don’t give a flying crap about your sex life. Why should I care what you do with your genitals? All I care is that you fix my car properly or take good care of my finances. You could be a flaming homosexual furry who’s into scat games and infantilism. It means absolutely nothing to me.
This explains why acts like Madonna hold no interest to me. Oooh, Madonna is wearing conical tit-slings and licking the thigh of a Puerto Rican baseball player. Wow. That’s so naughty. Madonna has genitals and rubs them against other people’s genitals. Just like every other member of the animal kingdom. Oooh. Let me giver her $50. She’s so amazing.
I once had a “sex positive” girlfriend who would go on and on about her all-important “sexual identity”. Funny thing is, concerns about her identity – the kind you get from ruthless reflection and careful character building – weren’t important. She probably read some stupid Susie Bright book and decided that the center of her life was between her legs. We broke up.
I have never cared for strip clubs. It’s not because I’m repressed, gay or embarrassed. It’s because I get bored in about 5 minutes. If I want to see some woman bend over and gyrate her ass, I’ll watch re-runs of Soul Train from the comfort of my home. There’s no way I’m paying for the privilege.
This boredom even extends to erotic dance. I have zero interest in belly dancers and I usually hit FF when a swords n’ sandals film dwells too long on a slave girl dancing for a Persian king or whatever. BORING! Get back to the historical parallels and battle scenes, you retarded director!
“Ted,” you say, “have you no sense of romance?” Of course I do. I like that first touch and first kiss and long nights in front of the fire just like everybody else. I’m not asexual (those people are freaks!). I am simply unmoved by traditional methods of seduction. Want to turn me on? Make eye contact from across a room. Lean in real close and whisper in my ear. Take my hand and walk away with me. I’ll make sweet love to you all night long. Just don’t waggle your ass up and down in my face like a baboon relieving herself against a tree in northern Tanzania. OK?
What about porn? Isn’t that the modern equivalent of ham-fisted seduction? Isn’t porn even cheaper and more egregious than stripping?
No, it isn’t. Porn has a specific purpose, and its legion ensures that your particular sexual interests are catered to. It’s not a seduction; it’s a sex tool, nothing more. Your specific turn-on’s are stroked and encouraged, all for free, or damn near close to free. Let’s take me for an example.
I find the photo of the hubba-hubba woman a turn-on. She gorgeous, she has a nubile bod, and is merely glancing at the camera, as if beckoning us to join her in the next room. If she suddenly licked her lips, bent forward and started shaking her ass, I’d lose interest. But maybe that’s just me. Maybe you’d prefer it if she squatted on the floor, licked a power tool and peed all over the floor. That isn’t a bad thing; it would just send me screaming for the door.
I’m a Playboy guy, not a Hustler guy. Always have been.
My interests in porn are very narrow and fleeting. I enjoy vanilla porn featuring attractive women. What I can’t stand is gynecological close-up’s of meat-tubes ramming juicy slots until beads of love-goo drip all over the lens. I don’t find it disgusting; I just find it boring.
BTW, ladies: when I have a woman in my life, my interest in porn disappears completely. When I don’t need a tool, it goes back in the shed and gathers dust. So don’t hold this post against me, m’kay?
Guys: are you with me on this? Let me know.