Saturday, November 12, 2005

Many men out there watch porn, it seems. I think that in my next life I'd like to come back as a male so I can understand what the big deal about porn is. As much as I try not to let the idea of pornography get to me, every so often it seeps through the chinks in my mind. I've seen the stuff that the boy watches and I can't quite decide whether I am fascinated or disgusted. A little of both. He watches the "lesbian" (girl-on-girl) stuff almost exclusively and doesn't really seem to mind the way my lip curls when I watch it on his computer.

The whole idea of how the way a girl who does porn is supposed to embody North American society's idea of physical perfection (maybe with a few exaggerations) bothers me. The slim women who look like they are the age of late teens/early twenties with their large breasts and long hair and flawless skin is what irks me. I think of how after constantly masturbating to the same thing Pavlov's theory would help to indicate that one would associate that thing with pleasure. That "thing" being the girls in the porno, but then there is me who is far from them in looks. I'm not stick-thin, I don't have flawless features, I can't pleasure someone orally for what seems like hours on end without getting tired.

In those vulnerable moments right before I fall asleep I find myself wondering if he compares me to those girls in front of the camera. I wonder if he ever feels disappointed because I don't look like them and I don't act like them. I wonder if he ever wishes he knew what it would be like to be with them (save the whole steroetype of the pornstar crawling with STIs). When he is with me, does he ever imagine that I look like one of those girls? During those moments before sleep where all my walls are down, I am the most susceptible to negative thoughts. Those thoughts follow me into dreams and, if vivid enough, are still there when I wake.

There are times when he touches me for no particular reason, when he tells me he loves me, when he tolerates all of my annoying quirks with a smile, and it's those frequent moments when I know he doesn't care what I look like or that fact that I'm not really willing to do girl-on-girl sex. He will hold my hand in public, he will tolerate when I pout, he even goes along with the ways I make fun of his gross habits. Maybe there are times when I feel ugly and that no one should be subjected to the sight of me. Maybe there are times I wish I was more attractive according to North American society's standards. Maybe there are also times that he can make me feel truly beautiful and I wouldn't trade being who I am with him for anything in the universe.

*stupid link of the day* All Look Same: I'm sure there are many people out there who, deep down, have thought that all Asian people look the same. Would you care to test that theory? JeN's mind ejaculated @ 3:45 p.m. | | permalink