Friday, January 1, 2010

Let's Talk About Sex Baby - Volume 8

After a four day weekend, I find myself being almost bored. Don’t tell anyone, but I am looking forward to getting back to work, because any more fun and frivolity could send me into a sugar high, that I may not be able to recover from. Honestly speaking though, my life is usually so structured that if I have more than two days off in a week, I end up running out of things to do, but it was nice to catch up on a lot of things I had been putting off. Of course this included writing, but also included the mundane tasks of sorting and collecting pornography. I am after all a flawed individual devoid of the pride necessary to keep these things to myself, and here is the drawl of things I learned sorting porn.

The first thing I noticed while I was shooting through the various porn sites that I have a membership to, was that the names of porn movies can be rather tedious, but at times very amusing as well. I mean I have always joked that it was a waste of a bad writer to come up with a script for these things, but I can’t even imagine who is in charge of coming up with the titles. “Oh damn ‘Defiled in Style’ is taken, and ‘Defiled in Style 2’ would be rather redundant, so I will have to call this one ‘Legally Boned’ and call it a day?” would be one of the conversations I could see these people having. In reality I have been collecting porn for at least a decade, and here I finally realized these things had titles to begin with. Like the wasted scripts, I can see how someone could miss these things. Of course I am still just happy that porn has gotten past the VCR arena, so I don’t have to worry about the wear marks from pause, fast forward, and reverse. Funny how that always seemed to happen on the good parts?

An amusing dialogue had formed in my own head, when I decided to “click” on the name of one of the porn stars that I liked. I had to do this because like the script I was going to forget her name about as soon as the next porn star I really like came into a screen. Her bibliography of porn scenes that this particular site covered was over 200! Jokingly I had to quip that this woman obviously loved to “do it” but the rational half of my brain reminded me that it was her “job” and that brought on a whole different set of ideals. Like most men, I had a glint of what life would be if that were MY job, and then of course started focusing on what actually IS my job, and started trying to compare the two. I mean, I clean toilets for a living. In some ways a lot of the same equipment and bacteria come into play, but I can’t ever say I love cleaning toilets. In that sense I was starting to wonder if secretly these porn stars looked at “doing it” as if it were work? Looking back to my first wife, I started remembering many nights when “doing it” seemed like work for me, but it still didn’t compare to cleaning toilets.

I've gotten so jaded on this mountain of pornography that I have collected already that the chances are pretty good that I don't even remember all of the movies I own. My last gift to myself was a Western Digital Media center so that I could watch all of my pornography from my disk arrays on my wide screen TV in the bedroom. The classic definition of sad is when your greatest gift to yourself over the last year is a porn converter so that you can watch porn in your bedroom instead of your office, I know, but damn it's like seeing most of these movies for the first time. Yeah I guess I'm not quite ready for prime time when I have logged thousands of hours sorting porn by the color of the woman's hair and the color of the stalkings they are wearing, but as I demonstrate on a weekly basis my honesty about my depravity is an easy warning. It's too bad that I have more often than not, missed the return warning when a woman find this all to be normal and often charming.

I'm happy to report though that I have still been getting things accomplished despite my porntopia I have barricaded in my bedroom. There was a time I would have sworn that three and a half years {yeah I measured it} of porn would definitely lead me to starvation, but I guess with age I have managed to have brief moments of productivity between fast forwards and rewinds. I think if a real woman actually wanted to do three quarters of the stuff on these movies with me I would end up injured if not outright terrified from the get go, so there is something to the fantasy, as opposed to the reality. You know your age is catching up with you when you can admit something like that out loud. Back when I was twenty I would have sworn that I could do things that would make the Russian Gym team scared, while now the very thought of doing anything in half the places these porn stars do, makes me wish I was twenty and could at least lie about it again. Knowing my luck I would have to prove it these days and then be forced to explain it to the unemployment disability people afterward.

This of course comes on the level of having a reasonably successful year in the romance department all the same. The saddest thing I can say about me is now that I have started actively drawing the attention of women my own age, there are some strange realities that come with that. When all I could attract were women half my age, life was a lot easier. I had almost nothing in common with them so I learned something {even if it was about who in Hollywood was cute}, they were easily impressed, so I rarely had to spend much on dinner or a movie, and on those wonderfully joyous times that the date didn't end there they were easily impressed there as well. I actually had the honor of dating {yeah that's an interesting way of putting it} a woman my own age earlier in the year, that was set in her ways, not easily impressed at all before the end of the date and after the end of the date. I couldn't walk for a couple of days, and despite having some of that “sex” that I would pretend I had at twenty, nearing forty it was going to kill me!

She went psycho on me so I started dating {yeah this one started out more like that} another woman around my age. Nothing made her happy, and during those times it should have made both of us happy I ended up wounded again. She went psycho, and then next. How in the name of God did the human race make it this far when the innate sexual nature of the humanity means that a man is at his sexual prime at twenty and a woman at mid thirties? It kinda explains the whole “cougar” thing that they talk about on television all the time, but I don't know what that makes me. I'm too poor to be a sugar daddy, too old to keep up with the “cougars” and to set in my ways to integrate with acceptable norms. Thank God I have all that pornography ;8oD

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Nothing that was printed here was intended to offend anyone, and if it did, screw ya, you begged for it. If you believe that there are some measures that can be taken to change me, then please feel free to pray for me, and while you are at it yourself, because you read this far, and if you hated every minute of it, then you are an idiot, not me, or the other people who like what I have to say! .. Jeremy

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