Ever notice that nobody ever mentions their love of porn ...
Ever notice that nobody ever mentions their love of porn in that period of first-starting-to-date? People divulge shit like "I have a friend who used to drum for the Cro-Mags" or "I'm open-minded about life, you know?" Porn is one of those things found out after the emotional bond is firmly soldered on. It is a secret pastime.
I used to love porn. But looking at porn to come, to get the rush of serotonin, gets obsessive quickly. I figured out that Valium and real-life things gave me the same escape but not the shame of having to hide a dirty secret. Hiding things is the lowest feeling I know.
I'm writing to make a point. When I was in elementary school, walking home, I found a stained, dirt-caked page from a porn mag. It made me sick to use it to come, but it was the first sex I'd seen and all I had. I hoarded it away. That's how porn is. You hoard it away and it makes you sick. Some people don't even know it's making them sick. They get wrapped up in fucking ego and imagine things they wish would happen instead of making something real. It gets dark.
But, as any heroin user will tell you, there's joy in the darkness.
To change, you have to want to first. Then here's what you do: go through the motions to come, thinking about a tree; an oak, maple, pine, doesn't matter so long as that's all you think about. Why? Because then you can see what purity is. You can't find a tree sexy. You can't insert your ego into the scene?it's a tree! It's pure. You can't become a treephile. Then you can see what's pure and what's coming because you're insecure and bored and need to be the star of something?
Dear Mr. Meanderer (that's you, letter-writer):
Did you ever notice that people?such as yourself?who are vehemently anti-porn spend a whole lot more time thinking about it than those who actually cop to liking it? People who enjoy nudie mags and skin flicks take a gander, get their rocks off and then go on about their business. Whereas you and the Andrea Dworkins of the world obsess over it to an unhealthy degree. And why? Sushi activates my gag reflex, but I'm hardly compelled to write an hysterical six-page letter to Ruth Reichl about it.
Oh, and by the way?you're wrong. Loads of guys are open from jump about their love of smut. I generally can't get the men I know?including the ones I'm dating?to shut up about it. Probably because they can tell I'm not going to get my knickers in a twist over their salivating (not to mention ejaculating) over some dirty movie or naughty website.
Color me jaded, but I think every man looks at porn. Those who don't?like you? are liars. And really, what's the big deal? Just like most people who drink don't end up skid-row alcoholics, the majority of guys having a wank over suicidegirls.com don't become "addicted" to it. And hey, if perusing Hustler puts him more in the mood for moi afterwards, who am I to complain? I'd certainly rather have my man choking the chicken in front of the DVD player than gobbling Valium in a lame attempt to keep his perversions in check.
The men who don't tell their dates about their Jenna Jameson jack-off habits are no different than dames who don't immediately volunteer that they've got a two-year plan which includes a church wedding, three brats and a house in the 'burbs. Why not disclose these little secrets? To keep the intended from fleeing the premises, der. Hiding what you consider the unappealing aspects of your personality is all part of reeling your mark in for the kill?I mean relationship. (Note to self: Keep mouth shut more often.)
Porn only makes you sick when you're not well to begin with. Besides, though I'm sure it's just residual Catholic damage, I find shame hot, and judging from the underlying tenor of your letter, I'm betting you do too. You just can't admit it.
And who says you can't find trees and other shrubbery hot? Have you never noticed a particularly winsome pine or naughty knotty oak? Believe me, no matter how odd or benign, there is nothing that doesn't get somebody off.