I’mma’ Gunna’ Pull Yo’ Hair

I’ve changed a lot in recent years.  More specifically, my opinions have changed a lot.

Back when I was young and idealistic and inexperienced, I believed that freedom was achieved through hedonism – controlled hedonism, if you will.  I thought that happiness came to those who poo-poo’d social mores and embraced the more dangerous aspects of life.  The sex, the drugs, the rocks and the rolls, those kinds of things.

I was an aspiring free sprit with a modest collection of formerly banned books (as in books banned in the 1800s that are now available on the bargain shelves at Chapters), a penchant for literature about pornography (not to be confused with pornographic literature, although I do have some of that too), a taste for mild body modifications (all of which are covered by clothing) and a kind of bohemian life philosophy.  

I still have some left-of-center beliefs that I hold dear (i.e. gay marriage is cool, abortion is a personal choice, abstinence-only education is ridiculous, etc), but my belief that all fun is good fun has been tempered by personal experience.  Now I believe that some “fun” things are not fun at all.  For me, anyways, and possibly for you too.

Let me explain.

Sex.

So, on the far right end of the spectrum you have courtship.  Courtship is chaste and non-threatening.  It involves two individuals expressing emotional and intellectual interest in one another, and thus agreeing to spend time together to see if a romantic commitment is a possibility.  It’s about hand-holding and giggling and shy, flirtatious glances.  It’s old-school, basically, and thus dated – mostly because it excludes the possibility of developing a physical relationship prior to a wedding.

However, on the far (left?) side of the romance continuum you have the hook-up, which is, by definition, not romantic at all. The hook-up is a fast and furious self-serving act.  It’s meant to enhance one’s reputation more than his (or her, but mostly his) quality of life.  The term “hook up” is ugly.  It sounds like plugging in a cord or linking paperclips together over a boring lunch hour.  The analogy is fairly appropriate, as insertion seems to be a key component of any real hook-up.

It’s sort of like the Ying Yang twins song that’s alluded to in this blog’s title.  It’s rough and coarse and terse.  

Despite the fact that a hook-up is supposed to be frivolous and exciting, it has rules.  Big Rules.

Rule #1: Don’t get attached after a hook-up.  Getting attached is for bitches.

Rule #2: Don’t expect affection after the hook-up, that’s asking too much.  Affection is for bitches.

Rule #3: You can hook-up again, but if attachment ensues, expect mockery and a long-lasting adversarial relationship with your former “lover.”

I used to think hook-ups were dandy, a good way to relieve stress and learn more about the beauty of human sexuality.  Now, I think they’re a troublesome social trend that’s stunting natural emotional growth.  Sex need not be exclusively reserved for love or commitment, but it should be had for passion.  It should be about desire and, hopefully, a small shred of mutual respect.  It should be about fulfilling the wants and needs of yourself and another person.

When you’re told you shouldn’t – nay, can’t – expect basic respect from your one-time (or part-time) partner because “it’s just sex and clinginess is for bitches,” the fun is gone.  The freedom from archaic, old-fashioned values is gone.  Even the “naughty” aspect is eradicated.  The hook-up, more often than not, eventually becomes about one person’s power over someone else.  One person, free of emotional reservations, sees another as, well, kind of a come bucket or fleshy vibrator.  If the bucket or vibrator gets upset, he or she (usually she) is derided for not following the rules.

Expecting everlasting attachment isn’t fair, but nor is it fair to demand cold detachment from people who are, for all intents and purposes, being intimate with another human being.  

We don’t need to return to an era where kissing was scandalous, but we do need to find balance between austerity and overindulgence, especially when that overindulgence starts to prove more wearying and trying than it’s worth.  

Sex is about the enjoyment of another person’s body, not the cold use of it.  Somehow it’s become cool to forget that, and I think that’s sad.

An Awkward Thought for a Wednesday Afternoon

Okay, so I kind of have this health problem.  It was discovered recently, and it’s not serious.  Well, it’s more accurate to say that it’s not likely to progress from curable to serious.  Still, it has to be managed with careful observation and, as a worst case scenario, very minor outpatient surgery (meaning I won’t have to spend a night in the hospital or anything).  The surgery part isn’t a guarantee, it’s a “maybe.”  Even if it becomes a must, it won’t be anything crazy.  In fact, it wouldn’t even be entirely correct to call it surgery, but rather moderately aggressive interference.  With some kind of electrical device.  

It won’t be as painful as it sounds.  I hope.  

Basically, I’m not all that worried.

Anyways, I know how I contracted this problem.  I got it from doing something that wasn’t in my best interests health-wise.  It wasn’t anything crazy – or even rare or unusual – but it wasn’t particularly wise.  I could have done things differently.  

However, I’m comforted by the knowledge that this was preventable.  I’m relieved that it had a defined trigger, and didn’t spontaneously occur.  Mystery, in this case, is a terrifying entity to deal with.

After I found out exactly what was ailing me (and why), I shared my wisdom (which I thought was actually common knowledge in this enlightened era) with a former “victim” and she looked doubtful, and a little scandalized.  

She hoped it wasn’t true, and that I was misinformed.  She dared not believe that ___ is caused by ____.  The ailment, she said, was no different from lupus or [some types of] cancer.  It appeared randomly and without provocation – a mere stroke of bad luck.

Even if something undesirable is caused by inadvisable behavior, is it not a little bit of a relief to know that ill fortune didn’t befall you randomly?  That you now understand the cause and can prevent such things from happening in the future?  Isn’t it just a relief to know why something happened?  Are all people not comforted by understanding cause and effect?  I know I am, I don’t like to spend too much time wondering why.  I like a firm “how.”    

Besides, the sooner you identify problems the sooner you can fix them, and the sooner you can (if need be) adjust your behavior accordingly.   

The good thing is that I know from whence this issue came, and I’ve accepted my involvement.  I’m not drowning in the throes of shame or embarrassment.  I’m not guilt-stricken, either.  I’m just relieved, really, to know the “hows” and the “whys.”  

P.S. I don’t have HIV or herpes.  

P.P.S. You all thought I had herpes, didn’t you?

P.P.P.S. Pigs.

OMG!PENIS!

While I work, I scour the internet for the purpose of mental stimulation.  Actually, that’s a lie – I use it to fuck around on Facebook.  Well, most of the time that’s what I use it for.  Sometimes, (like I did today) I use it as an educational tool.  A tool to educate myself on interesting matters.

One of my favourite websites belongs to James Dobson’s conservative think-tank Focus on the Family.  Dobson said, a year or so ago, that fathers exposing themselves to their sons prevents homosexuality.  Upon hearing that luscious pearl of wisdom, I became fascinated with the good “doctor” and his ministry. 

In fact, you can find it (and him) right here:

http://www.family.org/

Once I arrived at my destination, I began looking for the latest tidbits on morality (sexual morality, to be exact).  I decided to forego the gay-bashing articles and instead settled on a little “why sex is bad for you” fare.

I found a rather thorough Adobe article on the effectiveness of abstinence-only education.  The article cites various studies (partisan ones, perhaps), and concludes that safe sex is an oxymoron, and that those who believe in/practise it are destined to suffer diseased genitalia and unwanted offspring.  The article itself is worth a look, so here it is:

http://www.citizenlink.org/pdfs/fosi/abstinence/take_12.pdf

I won’t dissect it here, but will instead draw attention to a particularly memorable (and telling) line:

“My 16 year-old daughter came home visibly shaken after sitting through a film in her co-ed sex-education class; the movie had a graphic scene of a man putting on a condom! What can I do?”

What can you do, concerned mother?  Tell your daughter that a naked penis in a sex-ed movie is nothing to get shakey about. 

I’d understand being shaken after viewing a graphic documentary about the humanitarian crisis in Sierra Leone.  That film, after all, shows a mentally disabled child (probably under 10) being beaten by a group of adult male soldiers.  I’d understand being visibly shaken by news footage of, say, a large-scale terrorist attack or tragic school shooting.

Visibly shaken by the sight of a condom-convered penis?

Calm the fuck down.   

If the sight of a nude body part can traumatize someone, that person (and perhaps society at large) needs to rethink its position on nudity and sexuality in general.  There’s nothing wrong with safely and ethically familiarizing people (yes, even older teens) with nude bodies and how they work in a sexual context – especially if the purpose of the display is educational (which this clearly was).  The girl in question wasn’t forced to review objectionable pornography, she was granted the opportunity to witness a helpful demonstration on proper contraceptive use.

The article, downplaying its puritanical slant, focuses on building a “Reefer Madness” case against contraception.  Namely, they accuse it (and by “it” I mean condoms – and only condoms) of being ineffective and inherantly harmful in the way its existence subtly encourages people to have sex.  The article does not mention (in any real or helpful detail) hormonal birth control, STI testing, or typical cures for non-serious infections. 

It talks about damaging the “natural” modesty that exists between boys and girls by educating them on the sexual functionality of one another’s bodies.  To one girl (real or not) the sight of an erect penis was  somehow as frigtening as, like, the aftermath of a car-bombing…or something. 

Many moons ago (when I was seven or eight), I was unexepectedly exposed to the sight of an erect penis – a large one, no less.  Oh, and it was in a woman’s mouth. 

Like most families, mine had a collection of home videos (this isn’t going in the direction that you think it is, don’t worry).  One day, my younger brother and I decided to view one.  My mom, also craving a light-hearted stroll down our lane of memories, picked a random video and put it on.  I can’t remember how it started (probably at a birthday party or some such occassion), but I do remember it ended with disrupted tracking, static, and a blonde woman fellating a well-endowed man.

It was a shocking moment, but not one that had me cowering in a corner, shaking and sobbing.  My mom may have wanted to react in such a way (and looking back, I wouldn’t have blamed her if she did), but she held back.  The tape was ejected, and me and my brother’s brief foray into cinematic dick-suckery was never mentioned again.

My second unintentional descent into the dark world of uncovered private parts?

An accidental look at an earlier volume of The Joy of Sex.  The man in the pictures (who often had an erection) bore a startling resemblance to Jesus Christ (a fact that never really shook my fragile Catholic soul as much as you’d think it would).

In fact, rare glimpses of nudity and sexuality (all viewed in media, not real-time) served to, I think, broaden my mind and peak healthy curiosities at a younger (but not inappropriately young) age.  I didn’t have a plethora of lovers at the tender age of 14, I can tell you that much.  I was simply harder to scandalize, and therefore less inclined (perhaps due more circumstance than choice, to be fair) to seek illicit experiences before I was able to properly deal with and conceptualize them.

I wonder how the good “doctor” would respond if I told him my adventure with home videos.  He might claim I was – indirectly, of course – sexually exploited by irreponsible parents.  He’d shake his head sadly and attribute my current habits (none of which are bad, trust me) to an unstable, sex-saturated childhood.

Some people fail to realize that a little knowledge (obtained by a little experience) shapes behaviour better than dogmatic instructions on the perils of dropping one’s pants.