Dirty Sheets

Archive for September, 2009

Even if, some days, I can’t remember WHY. I have this piece of writing I’m working on, and having discovered Queerty yesterday — or more to the point, their Morning Goods posts — I thought I’d poke around and see if I could find some inspiration (or at least some nice eye-candy). This post, about Sam Handley’s rather ill-considered decision to join an amature porn site, caught my eye.

I clicked through, facepalmed over the story (Oh, you silly man!), checked the pictures (of course), and then I read only the first comment. *Headdesk* I didn’t mean to do it, because I really do know better than to read comments on the ‘net.

The first comment says, “Don’t fire him because he did porn. Fire him because he did bad porn.” Dude. It’s AMATURE porn. Not professional. He took those pictures himself, (or he had a friend help, but I suspect it’s the former). They’re not professional, but they’re not, by default, bad. In fact, personally, I kind of like them as they are. I would have recommended that he put his feet down in the first one and gone with more of a help-my-undies-are-falling-off look in the second, but that’s totally my own preferences shining through, there. *Waves a hand*

The thing about the pictures, for me, is the way he looks–not his muscles, or the way his face is put together, but the expression on his face. Well, that and his haystackish hairdo, but that’s beside the point. He seems to know that the poses are kind of cheesy and typical, and he seems a little embarrassed, but he’s not letting it stop him, either.

Just because it’s not pro doesn’t make it bad — there are hundreds of thousands of artists out there who’re hobbyists, not six-figure graphic designers or whatever. Does that make them “bad” artists? Not hardly.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned Bart and Sylvie here before. I’m not actually certain what Sylvie Cloquet does for a living; I think it involves translation. I think she was born and raised in France and now lives in America (or at least my version of it, anyhow), and she is a rather Dominant woman. Bart is basically a house-husband (except that I don’t think they’re married, or they’ve got a common-law marriage happening), which suits him fine — he’s happily submissive. Yeah, that gooey starry-eyed idealist BDSM warning? Not kidding about that.

Other Notes And Warnings:
– D/s! It’s a lifestyle-thing for them, and they’ve been together long enough that a fair number of Sylvie’s threats are either empty or unnecessary. Not that she makes many, in this bit.
– Hetsex! Yes, that’s right, an actual straight couple! I told you I could/did write them.
– It’s not finished (sorry about that); the tenses may be off in some places, too.
– Written in the first-person (Bart’s POV). For some reason, that’s just how Bart and Sylvie present themselves to me. *Shrug*
– I’d mention language, sex, D/s, etc., but that’s what you’re here for, right?
– Enjoy, or something.

“Welcome home, M’lady,” I said, opening the door and bowing.

Sylvie stepped into the entry and dropped Her briefcase on the floor, Her keys into the basket on the console table. “Bart, I want you to go upstairs and start the shower, hot as you can stand it. I will be there as soon as I’ve looked at the mail.”

I nodded, locking the door. “Certainly,” I said.
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Seriously. No one wants to hear this. Also, it’s one more item on the big list of things I can’t tell my mom (because while I’m sure she’d commiserate with me, that would just be awkward). But I need to get it off my chest, and this is about the only place I can do so. I don’t care if you skip this; I recommend you do. I’ll post a Bart/Sylvie smutblob next to make up for my last few posts being so arousing-in-a-different-way.

If you do plan to read this, have a POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING: Rape is mentioned. Nothing graphic, but just so you know.

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I don’t spend a lot of time reading news. Most of it is entirely too infuriating — horrible disgusting things happening around the world that I am powerless to do anything to stop or change — so I stay away from it. Occasionally, though, I do go delving into the world of news because I’m too curious. I almost always regret doing so.

For example, the idea that some witmidget thinks that it’s a GOOD IDEA to tell pre-adolescent (yeah, read it again, it says pre-adolescent) boys that “porn will turn [you] gay” drives me right up the motherfucking wall. (See that word? I almost NEVER use it. Yeah.) I want to find this man and hurt him, which is really not a constructive or adult response, but… His thinking is so vile and so evil that it just- All rationality goes right out the window. (I won’t, of course, because I A) am a grown-up and B) really fucking broke. Also C) my mother won’t bail me out.)

On the other hand, I also found this article about kids who choose to come out in middle school, which is heartening and a little bit heartbreaking all at the same time. Two of the more interesting points of it, for me, was the fact that mothers seem to be the most supportive/sympathetic and that I was once again confronted with the fact that my school experience is not common to all people, DUH.

I was thinking, ‘my God, isn’t 11/12/13 waaaaaaay too young for this kind of thing? I didn’t start noticing people until I was- Oh. Oh, yeah, right.’ And, actually, I did have a couple of crushes when I was about that age, so maybe I’m actually less-weird than I think I am. *Waves a hand* I still think 13 is waaaaaay too young to have a boyfriend/girlfriend, but that’s less a I’m-weird thing and more of a parenting-choice thing, so.

In reading through Erotica Cover Watch’s archives, I was struck again by the weird cognitive dissonance and dichotomy of being female (or at least choosing that as my default gender-identity; that’s another post and possibly another venue entirely though); identifying myself as a feminist; and then also identifying myself as a consumer of pornographic material. Not a whole lot – I’ve purchased exactly one pornographic DVD and it was anime to boot, so – but I look at a fair amount online.

The declaration by Violet Blue starts off with the statement that she refuses to identify herself as a feminist because she doesn’t want to be associated with “[...] such a judgmental, closed-minded, and assumption-crippled point of view.”

See, as far as I understand it, “Feminism is the radical notion that women are people too.” That women, no matter if they’re born with double Xs or not, have as much of a right to exist and work and live and love and BE as any guy does.

The point that Mat and Kristina are trying to make (sometimes politely, sometimes with bitter sarcasm) is that the covers of smutty books aimed at women, supposedly celebrating and “empowering” women, SHOULD NOT REINFORCE THAT WHOLE WOMEN-ARE-OBJECTS THING. Also, it’s a little confusing to have a naked woman (or more often only parts of a woman) on the cover of something that is ostensibly by and for women and features pretty much nothing but het sex.

As I have mentioned, I pretty much just dig people. However, I don’t dig being presented with disembodied and depersonalized (in some cases verging on dehumanized) parts of people. To me, the final cover of the book in contention (at the top of the post) would be a much more effective representation of the interior if it looked less like my bed after a restless night (yes, I sleep with books; I sleep with cats and more pillows than I need and a stuffed animal, too) and more like a woman had just dropped her copy of the book after having given herself a mind-blowing orgasm.

My first thought on seeing the picture was not, ‘ooh, sexy ass!’ or ‘I want that!’. It was ‘ooh, she looks cold – why isn’t she under the covers? What’s going on here?’ Then I was annoyed because once again all we’re presented with is the lower half of a woman. I guess it’s sexy, but frankly, I’m still hung up on the whole ‘isn’t she cold?’ thing.

It’s 2009. I just had a birthday, which means I’ve orbited the sun a whopping 31 times so far. I have known that I’ve been into dudes (and gals) since I was probably about, uh… Seven? Eight? I didn’t have the vocabulary for it, then, because I had no idea that gay people even existed until I was about 12. I have also known, for a very long time, that the idea that I cannot do because of, am rendered incapable by, or am somehow inferior because of the fact that I’ve got a uterus instead of a dick is utter bullshit.

I am huge on fairness – it’s another of the recurring themes in my writing – and the idea that I am less-human, less deserving, less important, less EVERYTHING than a man because I am not a man is vexing, grating, and above all fills me with the fury of a million nova suns.

To be told by the people who want me to buy their stuff that I don’t desire, that I don’t have any interest in being more than looked-at, that I am not worth catering to is deeply galling. I already have enough problems with clothing manufacturers deciding there’s no money to be had in making nice/pretty/cute FLATTERING clothing for those of us with big asses – one of the few things I really really love about being an adult has to join them? Fuck that noise.

Let me tell you about want, about desire, about how much I am an earth sign – remember Marc? If he had asked me, when I was fifteen, to sleep with him? I would have. Never mind that my parents had forbidden me to date until I was sixteen (not a problem with me; no one wanted me anyhow); never mind that at the time I was pretty sure that premarital sex was a one-way ticket to hell. I wanted that, I wanted to yield up my virgin patent to him, I was consumed by desire for him. I would have resigned myself to damnation for a quick fuck that I probably wouldn’t even have enjoyed because I wanted.

I still want. I want, from my toes to my split ends, I want. It doesn’t have to be Marc (though I probably wouldn’t say no, unless he was married, because infidelity is a total buzzkill); hell, my partner doesn’t even have to be a man. I just want. I used to think that wanting was wrong, was something that I wasn’t supposed to do. Where do you suppose I picked up that poisonous little idea?

Fortunately for me, I discovered the internet and I discovered that I was not the only one who wanted. Who thought that a couple of guys together was as hot as anything. Who thought that sex was interesting and arousing and actually not at all evil. I met people who pointed out that plain ol’ vanilla het sex was Not The Only Way. That sex is, can be, and pretty much should be, fun.

So now that I’ve said all of that, I can say this: I’m pretty comfortable now with owning my desire. I can say ‘I want’, even if I don’t ever get to say it in any other venue beyond this. I am an almost perfectly normal human female; I have desire; I like to look at people having sex because it is arousing and leads to orgasms which are nice.

Now, about those people having sex…

So if I’m so big on fairness, and non-objectification, how do I reconcile that with the fact that I look at porn? Even enjoy it, on occasion? ‘Cause if it’s one thing everyone knows about porn, it’s all about the objectification. Right?

Well… I still don’t really know. I choose to believe that the porn of today is made on a far more even footing than most porn has been. I’m sure that this is a very childish and naïve belief, but on the other hand… There are a LOT more women involved in making porn at all levels – choosing porn and choosing the sexual-entertainment industry instead of falling into it by accident or by feeling that they had no choice.

Porn is also a lot better today because there’s a hell of a lot more variety (and not just in Penthouse). Basically, if you’re into it, you can probably find someone to cater to you – behold the power of the ‘net. (Just as an example… I once, a very long time ago, stumbled across a site where people were talking about how hot hirsute women were. Not just natural/untrimmed women; we’re talking lady bears, right down to the hairy faces. I have never forgotten the shock of discovering that there were people out there who might actually find the way I look a turn-on. Shortest of the short versions: PCOD isn’t fun.)

However, the fact remains that there’s still not much in the way of good porn that is aimed at women specifically, intended to engage women in the way that we/they prefer. I have no idea what most other women like, but I know what I like, and what I like is something that treats me like a grown-up who has a brain. Something that acknowledges that women exist as sexual creatures in their own right. Something that I could show to my mother and say, ‘See? Smut’s okay! Really, it’s all right to stop acting like you’re offended when you really would rather say ‘oooh, more please!’, honestly.’ (I love my mother, but…)

That’s the kind of porn company I’d start, if I could. (I need a smutty venture capitalist. Or a very tolerant/flexible sugar-parent of the ridiculously wealthy variety. And to do some research.) Something that would eschew labels in the traditional sense, i.e. click here for gay and click here for straight. Yes, I know, to avoid complete chaos and people posting nasty things on their blogs about the lack of usablility there will have to be SOME way of sorting things out.

Tags are great for this kind of thing – you can tag a video with pretty boys, totally two dudes, m/m, oral, blowjob, muscles and people (no matter what gender/spot on the orientation spectrum they claim) can tell right away if it’s something they’re into. It doesn’t matter that it doesn’t say “gay” anywhere, because it’s just not important – all the important stuff has been covered. (Okay, so I don’t think it’s important; if it is I’m sure someone will mention it.)

And now I have run out of steam, have a headache, and need to go eat. Be good, and I’ll see you around.

So I believe that this is a both/and universe. Why is this important, and what does it have to do with smut? Just this:

Since I think this is a both/and universe, I think that it’s entirely possible to cater to the actual grown-ups in the crowd who want good smut and want to choose their label for themselves.

This stems from this post on Erotica Cover Watch, discussing the filtering system that Fleshbot employs on their website. The short version goes like this: Mat (of ECW) notices that a post on Filament’s second issue is filed under the sobriquet of “Fleshbot Gay”. This sits poorly with her, because straight (and bi, please remember us lonely fence-sitters) gals have one thing in common: they like the cock. Filament is aimed at these gals, not gay guys (though if gay guys want to buy a copy they won’t mind in the least). So, she zips off an email to the editor (one Lux Alpentraum). Lux says ‘oh, whoops, sorry; fixfix!’.

Then Mat plays with the filters on the site (“gay” and “straight”) and notices that women who want to see naked and mostly-naked men have to click on “gay” to do so, because clicking “straight” gets you naked women. This irks her (not a surprise, given ECW’s mission) and she asks Lux about it.

Lux’s reply boils down to “The filtering system was here before me and I can’t figure out how to do anything about it sorry.”

Think about that for a second. You’re the editor for a giant website that is part of a giant media conglomerate (gawker) and you can’t do anything about something that makes or breaks the site for your visitors?

The answer is obvious to me; it may be obvious to you-the-reader too. It’s stunningly simple and stupidly inclusive.

Three buttons.

One says, “I want to see naked women, please!”
One says, “I want to see naked men, please!”
One says, “I don’t care as long as they’re naked, please!”

That lets everyone choose their own label for themselves instead of having to accept someone else’s; it’s the least likely to offend everyone involved; and everyone can tell what they’re getting right up front.

Personally, I found Fleshbot to be confusing and annoying to use. It’s not just the filters, it’s the busyness of the layout – I felt that the ads overwhelmed the content. I didn’t mind the color scheme, and I’m grateful that they maintained the scheme across all filters, though.

Since Fleshbot is all about the porn, this leads me to a third post.

See, I’ve always known I was odd. I can remember very clearly my first two crushes that had everything to do with how attractive I found someone — a sixth-grade girl with masses of curly hair and braces (oh, she was so beautiful to me… I think I was in second grade? Third? I was little, anyhow.) and Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones, which needs no explanation.

So there’s that. I had a small crush on my best friends in the odd high schools I went to: the dear and sweet (and very straight) Liz; Anne who loved horses and invited me to see The Birdcage at the theater; Gabe who told me he couldn’t go to prom with me because of a religious service (and showed up not too long after I arrived, and that is another post entirely). And let’s not forget that massive massive torch I carried for one of the most gorgeous guys on the planet, Marcus William Stover.

As you can see, my interest in humanity has been pretty evenly split along gender lines. What’s so weird about that?

Well, it comes from two sources: having seen someone asserting that “bisexuals are just greedy” (no, I can’t remember where, argh) and very rarely being presented with the option of ‘I don’t care’ when being asked if I’m interested in men or women at various and sundry sites online.

Me, I’m not greedy, I’m more indecisive or very very fluid — more about people than parts.

So when I look at dating sites, just to see (because I am odd and curious), I’m always kind of annoyed when no one takes into account the fact that sometimes people don’t know if they want a woman or a man. I don’t care about gender! Could I just look at people, please?

I know that I ask a lot of the universe at large, because I am an arrogant speck of dust, but it makes my brain hurt when people assume that this is an either/or existence. It’s not — it’s a both/and!

And this leads to my next post…

Loving Penetration seems to have disappeared from the blogosphere with nary a whisper or a moan. This is seriously bad news for me, since I’m A) usually broke and B) leery of viruses — LP was a great place to find decent-length clips of gay porn. Which may be why they’re gone; I was thinking that perhaps they got dinged by one of the sites they snagged the clips from. Usually, porn-site teasers are about two minutes long and broken up into three or four separate files, and the vids at LP were definitely not that short.

Uh, hi again, by the way. *wavewave* I’ve been writing a LOT lately, primarily so I can send it off to be published. Well, possibly published, no one’s said yea or nay as of today. (It’s all gay erotica, too, so.)