I went shopping today

I went shopping today, in Kingston Upon Thames, which is on the South West tip of London. I quite like Kingston, it has perfectly adequate shops, winking their neon in a drab suburban kind of way. I went in existential mood, feeling a little lonely. 

Before I go on I should say that I’m a deeply conflicted man – I know material acquisition won’t make me happy, because it never has, and I know that fashion, technology toys, magazines and so on, are all selling an unattainable myth – Some ersatz material nirvana. I know all this, yet I’m the most grasping material fucker I know. I’m legendary amongst my friends for my prodigious accumulation of expensive stuff. I earn quite a lot of money, and with no children, mortgage or fear for the future to reign me in, I piss it all away, month after month, year after year.  

But back to today, I walked through the main shopping centre doing some of my best people watching. Attractive couples walked arm in arm, gently crushing one another with colossal expectations, while the credit card companies smirk. However my eyes were drawn to the singles, the lone-shoppers, those crushed souls of my age or older, self-medicating with plastic money. They didn’t look well, and neither am I. What was I doing there? As I steadily checked out the pretty ladies, occasionally holding momentary eye contact, I realised that my shopping is nothing more than a sublimation of my sexuality. Not my sex life, but my sexuality. I’m feeling lonesome at the moment. I need a warm someone in my life and in my bed. I miss intimacy and I miss the ex who I myself dumped 2 months ago. I miss flirting, I miss exhibitionism, I miss morning sex, I miss knowing someone who knows me, I miss the smell of female skin. My sexuality is confined to a small masturbatory box and it’s breaking free in unusual ways. I was dragging thrills from the sexiest stuff, gleaming like Amsterdam’s finest, in well lit windows displays. 

I wandered into the Apple shop, a sexual retail experience which puts Ann Summers to shame. Brash teenagers shamelessly caressed the sleek toys. Through a crowded room my eyes fixed on a beautiful model – The Mac Mini. I held back, waiting to be approached. Apple do foreplay. You don’t pick up a box, take it to the counter, pay and leave. Instead a woman, looking not unlike my ex-wife with tired eyes but a certain appeal, appeared to show me the ropes. I made slow and tactile acquaintance with my new special friend. Vaguely aroused, I reached for my wallet and sealed the deal. I felt wonderful for ten minutes. A ‘pick-me-up’ smoothie took care of a further twenty.   

Pride in Brighton

Went to Brighton’s gay Pride last night. Despite that, and the virginity story below, I’m actually straight.

It got me thinking about how many elements of gay life and the gay scene I’d like to co-opt for my straight world. There are loads:

• The ability to intellectualise casual sex
• Rufus Wainwright
• Better quality porn
• Sir Ian McKellan
• Acceptance of those who deviate from accepted norms (in terms of dress sense, demeanour, tastes, views, and so on)
• Rupert Everett

Of course if you’re a gay reader you’ll know I’m patronising you, and I’m sure you’d rather homo-voyeurs like me stayed away from your events. And… Oh you’re probably right. Sorry.

Thoughts on American Porn

I’m living on my own for the first time in my life, and have very quickly taken advantage of the new freedoms it affords me: Having a bath with the door open, playing Morrissey too loud, wanking in the living room, you know the sort of thing.

Of course this also means I’ve been downloading internet porn at all hours of the day or night. Most of it is American.

And my god, this stuff is appalling! Fundamentally it fails in its central task: It isn’t a turn on. But more worrying, it often seems to depend on insulting, belittling and generally subjugating the woman. Every film involves a man stood up recieving a blow job from a woman on her knees (don’t most people do oral sex lying down?) while the man utters banal lines along the lines of “yeah baby, suck that cock”, notice that’s an order. Websites have dreadful names like “treat her like a whore” (this slut fucked by a new stranger every week) or “cock hungry bitches”

Gonzo type porn, seems to regard the women as the enemy and the act of sex is punishment (for what?). When you see the idiot with the camcorder talking the woman into bed, their ham-fisted, mono-syllabic sledgehammer approach usually has the women rolling her eyes, even when it’s fake and the woman is a pornstar guaranteed lay.

The men in these pornos always externalise their arousal: (This bitch has turned me on). In doing so they put the woman on a pedestal and then resent them for being there (now she’s gonna get it). It seems to me that sexual attraction isn’t about how a woman looks, but is more about how we look at a woman. Women don’t turn us on, we turn ourselves on.

My take on all this crap is this: Inadequate men who know they cannot exist as equals to women then validate themselves through dominating them and belittling them.

Kids will look at this porn and learn lessons from it, and right now there must be a whole generation of kids growing up thinking sex is about domination, women need to be in their place and that women who enjoy sex are sluts and whores.

Where is the art and the beauty? Naked bodies are beatiful, sex is fun, but you’d never know this from the crap on the internet.