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The 2nd Date

I was hanging out last night with a group of younger cocktail waitresses that I’ve known for a while, and when I woke up this morning it hit me that it is sad that nowadays they are more or less expected to deliver sex on a second date–maybe even the first date–and usually a BJ.

BJ’s used to be considered a bit of a perversion, something you got from a prostitute, but not from a self respecting girl.  Now, apparently, it’s spit or swallow.  I think we have first Deep Throat to thank for that–a movie in which “Linda Lovelace” we now know was more or less a sex slave–and Bill Clinton.

I watch women, and I imagine their complex of feelings. Sometimes, of course, for men they really like, it is probably a turn on, something that makes them feel happy to be able to do.

Most of the time, though, I suspect there is a complex of feelings they don’t really want to address, which includes shame, anger, a following need to mask both emotions, a certain subtle loss of self respect, and likely an increased tendency on the part of the man to objectify her.

Many girls nowadays come into sex this way.  That is their first sexual contact, is giving oral sex to a boy.  So it starts early.

And to my point here, I feel that damages the capacity of BOTH the man and the woman, the boy and the girl, to play with sex innocently, in a happy way.

It is possible both to enjoy a sunset, or a beautiful day, and to enjoy sex, but the way we do it nowadays, the first seemingly is largely lost, and the second compulsive, and all about an explosive release of tension accumulated in the course of a day of not feeling anything otherwise pleasant, otherwise enjoyable, otherwise relaxed and easy.

I like women.  Given my druthers, I always prefer hanging out with women to men.   And I was just feeling that there is this large subtle circle around sex which most men miss.  It is like they are looking for a target in the middle of a circle, which the woman is too, but there are all these shades of feelings, all these places between the line of first contact, and coitus that so often remain unexplored.

Hand holding.  As John Mellencamp sang, that used to mean everything.  I suspect more pleasure was had in the 50’s walking around holding hands than is had nowadays having group blowjob parties.  That is why kids nowadays like Horror movies so much.  They don’t know why, but it matches their emotional world.

Sex is so much of who you are, who you become, and it just doesn’t seem like kids take the time to mature in it, to grow into it, to learn empathy and connection, and yes love, true love.  So many people grow into adulthood emotionally unsatisfied, with superficial relationships not just with the woman or man they marry, but with themselves.  That is where superficiality starts–by denying your own emotions, and that in turn begins with being forced prematurely into social situations–sex–for which you are emotionally undeveloped.

In some respects the development of torture porn was inevitable, since normal pornography is already emotionally violent.  It already requires the suppression of normal forms of affection, and emotionally valid bonding.  It already makes of both partners objects.  It is already a master/slave relationship.

I was just thinking I want more for these women.  It is not impossible.