Tuesday, June 9, 2015

Pornosophy: Memoirs of a Closet Heterosexual

In an age where sex reassignment surgery is all the rage, the white picket fence and the missionary position no longer constitute the American dream. Americans have more fish to fry and wetter dreams. A simple affection for the high school sweetheart which turns into marriage is tantamount to vacationers who still go to Sarasota, when they could brave avalanches in the Himalayas. Who wants to turn over in bed and do the deed, when there are blindfolds, handcuffs and numerous other restraints available particularly to those who are willing to risk their sexual identities? Sexuality is no longer an ordinary pleasure that accompanies relationship building, it’s an outsized aspiration with its own elite level performers. But what happens if you are not a former decathalon champ/future reality television star who has spent her whole life meeting challenges? What happens if you don’t like a challenge? What if you don’t have the stuff of the legendary Thai boxer who used her earnings to cross the river Lethe which separates the man from the woman he wishes to be? What if you don’t even care that much about sex and are too busy with the headaches of raising children and dealing with the everyday annoyances of living with another person to care whether you are a boy or a girl? What if you’re simply too busy to realize your true self, to realize your being? One of the saddest things about modern life is the fact that there are so many possibilities available—including the increasing facility of sex changes-- that you always end up feeling like you’re winding up with the short end of the stick. It used to be that if you were a man you were never the man you wanted to be. Now if you’re a man, you end up feeling you never became the woman you could have been.

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