My mother is an extremely intelligent, capable person. Most people warm to her immediately and she lives a life rich with activity and intellectual pursuits. It’s no wonder, then, that I have grown up expecting women I meet to be equally smart and able, or at least approach it. I have a few male friends who are provincial and barely literate, but I expect more from women. I realize this promotes a kind of double-standard in my world, and I already wrote a piece about it. I think the answer is to drop my retarded male friends and stick with a more intelligent set in general, whether they have ovaries or not.
Like pretty much every other guy, I look at pornography. I don’t view it compulsively and I don’t have a voluminous knowledge of it, but I do use porn for masturbating and have done for over twenty years now. I’ve never thought to reconcile the fact that I hold such respect for women in my life and female figures that I admire, but I have no compunctions about abusing myself to some moaning, saline-heavy broad writhing around in a kiddie pool full of baby oil. My general, abstract idea was that if a person decides to make money with their body, that’s their business. I don’t believe in a moral absolute where exchanging money for fucking is inherently wrong. I have never exchanged money to fuck, but I was okay with it in principle. I’ve certainly spent money on pornography through the years, so I figure it’s all in the same bag.
Recently, I have had cause to review my thinking on prostitution and pornography, and I see how silly it was. I created a scenario where a person would come from a loving, supportive family, grow up with a completely healthy and confident sexual identity, go on to college and grad school, graduate with honors, and then for some weird fucking reason decide that they’d like to have a career selling their nether regions rather than, say, anything else at all. Upon reasoning it out, I saw that I’d created a this fallacy, this ludicrous scenario where the women to whom I pounded my pud were willing supplicants to the most lucrative industry on the planet. As if I was, in fact, doing them a favor by examining their close-up crotches like an armchair gynecologist. Frankly, my legions of brainwashed readers, I feel a little ashamed.
I’m sure there are some rational people who make a completely cogent decision to exchange their bodies for money. But the people who exit the industry wealthy and unscathed are so few so as to be completely negligible: most people who get into porn are a mess. And these are people protected by a union; I’m sure prostitutes have it far worse. It’s difficult for me to separate my excuse for pornography from the facts: probably by unconscious design, I’ve never sought out any specific information on porn stars or the industry, save for what filters into mainstream news. I don’t condemn pornography and prostitution, but there’s got to be a better way for me to get my nut off. Luckily for me, I love to read: http://www.literotica.com/stories/index.php (not safe for work)