What happens when you’re snowed in, cooped up, and have a tendency to go a little nuts when you’re left alone for too long? That’s not a rhetorical question, by the way. I ask because that’s exactly the situation I find myself in today.
See that picture above? That’s the weather forecast for the northeast United States. You see that dark purple area in the center, indicating the heaviest snowfall? That’s where I am. That’s what I have to deal with for today and possibly the next several days.
Now this can be a good thing in some respects. When I get snowed in, I generally have more time to work on my writing. I do have some upcoming blog posts, as well as some other projects I’ve been working on. However, those only go so far for a guy like me. I’m not the kind of person who functions well being cooped up for too long.
By that, I mean I have a tendency to go a little nuts when I’m alone. By go a little nuts, I mean I often turn up the heat, get naked, open a bottle of whiskey, and generally wing it from there. Sometimes that involves playing music no on has liked since 1999. Sometimes that involves binge-watching every X-men movie ever made. I’m not saying it’s healthy. I’m just saying it’s how I cope.
I’ve made my fondness for nudity fairly clear. I sleep naked. If I can do something naked, I generally jump at the chance. I know it seems counter-intuitive in the winter during a snowstorm, but it works for me. It’ll get me through this storm and the inevitable mental strain that comes with being cooped up. It always has.
For everyone else effected by this storm, I won’t recommend my methods. I won’t discourage them either. If whisky and nudity isn’t enough, then try reading some of my novels to help warm you up. There’s “The Escort and the Gigolo,” which takes place in sunny Las Vegas. There’s “The Secrets of Sadfur Island,” which takes place on a tropical island. Then, there’s “The Final Communion,” which involves a lot of hot group sex.
If these don’t warm you up, then nothing will. So for now, wish me luck in staying sane and/or fully clothed for the duration of this storm. To everyone else on the east coast, hunker down and stay warm. If you’re lucky enough to have a lover with you, use this as a chance to keep each other warm. It’ll make being snowed in that much more bearable.
There have been multiple Superman movies. There have been dozens of Batman movies. Hell, even Ant Man got his own movie. That’s right. A hero named Ant Man got a movie before Wonder Woman. What’s that say about us as a culture?
We’ve had to ensure some pretty nasty moments to get to this point and I’m not just talking about the poor reviews that Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice got. We’ve had a Catwoman movie that has since become infamous. There has even been an Elektra movie that has since become as forgettable as Ben Affleck’s performance as Daredevil.
There’s no question that the road to this movie has been long and hard, but it’s finally almost here. The Wonder Woman movie is poised to join the world of superhero movies at a time when raccoons and talking trees are finding their way into this genre.
With only a few months left, Warner Brothers released another trailer this past weekend. I would’ve made a big deal of it sooner, but being sick kind of got in the way of that. I’m better now so I’m ready to make a big fucking deal of it now.
Are you done cheering like a school-girl on crack? Good. As a long-time comic book fan, seeing this trailer puts a smile on my face and a boner in my pants. I couldn’t be happier that superhero movies have become the alpha and omega of box office blockbusters. However, I have been somewhat frustrated by the lack of successful female superhero movies.
Wonder Woman can change that. Wonder Woman, being the first and most iconic female hero of the last 70 years, can bring some much-needed balance and sex-appeal to superhero movies. While I doubt the BDSM elements of her history are going to show up in this movie, I’m glad she’s joining the crowded crop of superhero movies that has one too many talking racoon and actors named Chris.
This trailer specifically focuses on Wonder Womans origins. Again, there’s no hint of BDSM, but the core elements are there. There’s Themyscira, her homeland. There’s the Amazons, a society of warrior women blessed by the gods. There’s a weapon that no woman on Themyscira is worthy to wield. Those are all key elements of an awesome Wonder Woman story.
That story will commence this June. Expect me to be among the first in line. Also expect me to write a thorough assessment on this blog, especially if any BDSM moments show up. I imagine they’ll be well-hidden if they do, but at this point, I’ll just gladly accept an awesome Wonder Woman movie that’ll remind the assholes at the UN why she’s one of the most iconic female heroes of all time.
I know. It sucks when we lose an hour of sleep. Even if you don’t have to work and got a lot of sleep the night before, it still sucks. Sleep is one of those things we don’t like to compromise. That’s why daylight savings, at least in the spring, is so frustrating.
We all need as much rest as we can get, if only to ensure our beds are ready for other activities. If you’ve been following this blog for any length of time, you know what I mean so I won’t spell it out. I’ll just let your dirty, filthy imagination fill in the blanks.
Dirty or not, there’s no getting around it. We here in America have all lost an hour of sleep today. That sucks, but it’s not a goddamn tragedy. The best we can do is suck it up, sleep in next weekend, and do what we can to make up the difference. I can’t give you that hour back, but I can make it easier with some of my Sexy Sunday Thoughts.
Even if you’re tired, a little sexy musings should help re-energizing your mind, body, and everything in between. Consider it my makeshift remedy to this most inconvenient of practices. Enjoy!
“Eating, sleeping, breathing, and sex are all basic needs, but only one of them is illegal to do in public.”
Unless you live in a nudist colony, this is one of those odd little proclivities about society and how we meet our basic needs. Now I’m not saying that people having sex in broad daylight is a good thing. Traffic is bad enough in some cities. The last thing we need is blowjobs holding up a crosswalk.
That said, sex is still one of those basic needs that we all seek as humans. Like food, air, and rest, it’s as critical to our survival as any other basic function. Despite this, there are all sorts of taboos and laws that prevent us from doing it out in the open. Not saying it’s inherently wrong, but it is kind of odd in that context.
“An orgasm for women is one of the few bodily functions that has been both a symptom and a remedy for disease.”
It’s true. There have been times in history where orgasms have been seen as a sign of disease. For some societies, especially those run by celibate holy men and chaste women, an orgasm might as well be a malignant tumor. No self-respecting woman would seek such toe-curling pleasure without some form of ailment right?
“Marriage is the bureaucracy of love and divorce is the hidden legal fee of heartbreak.”
Let’s not lie to ourselves. Marriage, as an institution, is very much a bureaucracy. It’s next to impossible to make it sexy or romantic, but we, as a society, have done our best. I’m not saying it’s perfect, but it still works.
Divorce, on the other hand, is never sexy or romantic. It is, for all intents and purposes, the legal equivalent of a kick to the balls or an ice pick to the heart. By comparison, a hidden legal fee is almost merciful. Like I said though, bureaucracy obscures our capacity for love and romance. You take the good, the bad, and the downright painful that comes along with it.
“Jealousy is to love what projectile vomit is to erections.”
It’s a toxic emotion, that’s for sure. When it comes to lust though, namely those that inspire erections, it doesn’t take something so esoteric. Something as simple as projectile vomiting, both as a participant and an observer, will kill any sexy mood faster than a surprise visit from the Pope. It’s just basic biology.
“The first person to try anal must have been very convincing and the first person to agree to it must have been very gullible.”
I’ve got nothing against anal and those who enjoy it. I don’t consider myself an enthusiast though. I’m more than happy to leave that sort of thing to gay men, experienced porn stars, and the kinky women who inspire them.
However, I still can’t help but wonder what into the first act of anal sex. What exactly where those involved thinking? Were they drunk? Were they feeling adventurous? What kind of conversation did they have? I don’t know, but I suspect one person was very persuasive and the other was exceedingly susceptible to being persuaded.
“A young woman’s annoying personality traits are directly correlated by how much she spends on her dog.”
Maybe this is just Paris Hilton’s influence being too damn prevalent, but I’ve noticed a fairly common trend among certain women. If they’re young, beautiful, and annoyingly upbeat, they tend to pamper their dog in ways most human babies can only dream of. Short of breast feeding, these dogs have a pretty sweet deal.
The cost, unfortunately, is a woman with an annoying personality who sees her dog as more worthy of affection than other people. Now I love dogs as much as the next guy, but there’s a fine line between care and infatuation. Those who never see that line tend to be more annoying than they’ll ever admit.
“Men can’t experience the pain of childbirth, but they spent their whole lives vulnerable to a kick in the balls so it kind of balances out.”
I know women will debate me on this. Being a man, I can never know the pain of childbirth. I’ve seen how pregnancy effects friends and family members. It really does a number on a woman’s body that makes me think twice about taking a sick day because my stomach hurts.
That said, women will never know the pain that comes with being hit in the balls. Growing up, I played sports. As a result, I’ve been hit in the balls with a baseball, a basketball, a hockey pick, and a lacrosse ball. That’s a pain I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. It’s also a pain that I, as a man, will always be vulnerable to. I’m not saying this puts men and women on equal footing. I’m just saying the gap isn’t as big as you think.
“Those who give oral sex are heroes. Those who receive oral sex are lucky. Those who do both are true champions.”
I’m of the strong believe that oral sex is the ice cream of sex. No matter what form it takes, it’s usually pretty damn delicious. Those eager to give it deserve the highest of praise. Those lucky enough to get it deserve a high-five, a hug, and an ounce of respect.
However, it’s those that do both who are the real legends. Those that do both and do them well don’t just make things better for their lovers. They raise the bar for those around them. As far as I’m concerned, oral sex can’t have too high a bar. A world where everyone can give and receive oral sex masterfully is a world of true peace.
That’s all for now. Hope this helps make up for the lost hour you would’ve otherwise spent in bed, not contemplating such sexy subjects. As an aspiring erotica/romance writer, I can only do so much. However, I’m certainly willing to do my part.
This is going to be a short, simple post. I had planned to write something fun and sexy for today, but then I got sick. It’s nothing serious. Just a bad cold that will keep me indoors and bed-ridden for today. I hope rest and medicine help me feel better, especially for my weekly Sexy Sunday Thoughts column. For today, though, I’m down for the count.
Hang in there, though. I’ll heal up and be back to writing about fun, sexy topics in no time. I promise.
Some issues really shouldn’t be that controversial to begin with. Things like treating pets well, not hitting kids, and not putting wasabi in your cereal are just common sense. There should be no controversy. Anyone who wasn’t raised by Jeffrey Dahlmer should understand that.
Again, it shouldn’t be controversial. The idea of getting consent from someone before you have sex, kiss, or massage their prostate fits perfectly within the realm of common sense. So why the hell is it such an issue? Why are star athletes and ardent feminists struggling with it to begin with?
There are any number of elaborate, politically-charged factors I could talk about. Since I don’t want people to treat this blog as a cure for insomnia, I’m going to try and keep it simple, funny, and sexy, although when it comes to consent, there’s only so much sexiness I can manage.
The problem, if you really want to call it that, is common sense itself. By that, I mean we think human beings are wired to have it. That’s only half-true at most. As I’ve made clear before with my use of caveman logic, the human brain is not wired for common sense. It’s wired for survival and reproduction. Anything beyond that is just extra icing.
That means that people frustrated with other peoples’ inability to understand consent don’t understand the biological wiring of their own species. Whether you’re a feminist or an extra in a Lil Wayne video, we’re still part of the same species. We’re still prone to the same flaws. Failing to take that into account is akin to joining the Navy without remembering you get seasick.
This leads me to a recent video that the fine folks at Cracked.com put up a while back. Now I’m usually a big fan of Cracked. I’ve cited them before on this blog and they generally do a good job of exploring sensitive issues in a funny, often sexy sort of way. This time, however, I’m a bit torn.
This video, despite having undeniable sex appeal in talking about a serious issue, tries too hard to make this issue simple. I can totally understand that. Cracked is a humor website, not a lecture hall at Oxford. However, in trying to make things simple, it misses a few key details.
Like almost every major issue or political movement, the controversy surrounding consent began with the best of intentions. In previous decades, the rates of sexual assault and rape were atrocious. The issues associated with handling these crimes was just as bad. One side said it was consensual. The other side says the other has a fucked up definition of the word. In a courtroom not run by Judge Judy, that’s a difficult crime to resolve.
In recent years, especially with the rise of third-wave feminism and greater emphasis on women’s issues, there has been a concerted effort to address the uncertainties surrounding consent. I don’t doubt the motivations or the heart. In principle, they’re coming from the right place. In practice, however, there’s a big problem.
To illustrate this problem, let me paint a scenario. Picture a man and a woman, totally sober and in a sound state of mind. They’re at a party, a bar, a barn dance, or wherever people meet these days. They start chatting. They laugh. They like each other. Then, things get heated.
The man asks if the woman wants to go somewhere more private. She says yes.
The man asks if the woman wants to get into bed with him. She says yes.
The man asks if the woman wants to take off their clothes. She says yes.
The man asks if the woman wants to have sex with him. She says yes.
The man and the woman start having sex. Body parts are in other body parts. Basic biology takes over. All the while, the woman still says yes.
Then, for any number of reasons that are too vast to specify, the woman says no. There’s little to no warning. There’s little to no reason. She just starts saying no. Under the emerging concept of consent, as espoused by the very vocal wings of third-wave feminism, that man is now a rapist.
Does that clarify the issue? Does it now make sense why the concept of consent isn’t quite as easy as the editors of Cracked makes it out to be?
It’s an unavoidable facet of being human. People don’t always say what they mean. People don’t always mean what they say. Until brain-to-brain communication and perfect lie detectors are perfected, there’s really no way to know for sure.
This creates an unequal dynamic between men and women, those most dreaded of predicaments that make feminists and men’s rights activities hulk out. Just look at the Duke Lacrosse incident or the Rolling Stones UVA case. It’s not just a matter of he said/she said anymore. It’s a matter of unequal gender dynamics creating a confusing, conflicting, and in some cases detrimental understanding of intimacy.
Unlike decades in the past, an accusation of sexual assault is almost as bad as a conviction. Up until very recently, it was possible to deal with a sensitive incident privately and not incur the wrath of the public. Provided you weren’t a politician, pastor, or celebrity, it was something you could put behind you.
Thanks to social media and the internet, that’s not possible anymore. As soon as the story surrounding the UVA case came out, there was no real effort to check the facts. The entire world just assumed the men were guilty. There were protests. There were lawsuits. The whole ordeal became a rallying cry for protesting the macho-manly frat culture that we’ve seen in every 80s teen movie.
Despite all this outcry, though, it wasn’t true. It never happened. The story was totally fabricated and Rolling Stone had to apologize for that story. In this issue, the concept of consent was conflated and twisted to create a false narrative. The problem was that certain people cared more about the narrative than the truth.
This is where consent gets especially muddled, especially for men. In both the UVA and Duke case, the assumption was that the men were guilty. That’s because, for those seeking a narrative, men are horny beasts who look for any opportunity to sexually assault a woman. Being a man, I can safely say this is not true. I can also say it scares the bejesus out of me.
It’s because of these expectations and assumptions that consent is difficult to grasp. If a woman accuses a man of assault, then she’ll be taken very seriously. If a man accuses a woman of the same, he’ll probably be laughed at. It’s one of those harsh double standards that few talk about.
Given this inequality in understanding and humor, how can women expect men to understand consent and how can men expect to empathize with women? When there’s this kind of discrepancy, it’s next to impossible.
As a man, I can only attest to my own experience. Personally, I’m terrified of a woman accusing me of something so horrible because I know, as a man, I’m not going to get the benefit of the doubt.
This means I’m very reluctant to hug people, ask them out, or talk about intimate issues. I know that if a woman wanted to, she could make an accusation against me and my life would be over. It wouldn’t even matter if I’m innocent. The accusation still ruins my life, my reputation, and everything in between.
Women want men to understand consent. Men want women to understand the kind of power and leverage they have over them. Both still have this innate drive to connect and be intimate. Our culture, our flawed assumptions, and our inability to be certain of one another’s intent just gets in the way.
Being the optimist I am, I believe it’ll change. I believe the arc of history still trends towards equality and justice. It won’t happen all at once. It might not even happen within my lifetime. Whenever it happens, I believe it’ll be worth the wait. When the day comes when men and women can talk about what kind of anal beads they prefer without fear, that’ll be a glorious day indeed.
Admit it. You knew it was going to happen at some point. I start talking about brain-to-brain communication, sharing thoughts, and techno-telepathy and eventually, I was going to relate it to comic books.
If you’ve been reading this blog in any capacity over the last year or so, you know how much I love comic books and superhero movies. I’ve also made clear how much I love X-men in particular. Hell, I even argued that Storm was a better female superhero than Wonder Woman. Make that argument on a comic book message board and you can expect a lot of angry responses, including certain remarks about your mother.
My point is that if I haven’t made my love of comic books and X-men clear now, then there’s not much more I can do that doesn’t involve tattoos. That’s why it really should surprise no one that I’m about to relate my recent discussions about the future of sex and intimacy to the X-men.
Yes, I know the X-men were created in 1963 and using them as a precursor to the future is like using old reruns of “The Simpsons” to predict the future. Then again, given the Simpsons’ track record, that may be a bad example.
Now in talking about them with respect to the future of love and intimacy, I’m not going to focus on the particulars of their relationship. There are plenty out there who despise this romance, just as there are plenty out there who despise every romance that involves vampires. I get that. There are vocal X-men fans who would rather see Cyclops and Jean Grey involved with someone else. I’m not here to argue with those fans.
Like every superhero romance, Cyclops and Jean Grey has been prone to many complications that go beyond bad love triangles. Look at any romance in comics. Without exception, there’s always some amount of uncertainty, drama, death, rebirth, and reboots. It’s just how comics work.
For the purposes of this post, I’m not just going to focus on what makes the Cyclops/Jean romance work. I’m going to focus on one of the unique components about it, namely the fact that Jean Grey is a powerful telepath. She can read, project, and manipulate thoughts and she doesn’t need future technology or hypnosis to do it. As a mutant, it’s just one of those talents she’s born with. In that sense, it’s definitely more useful than sewing.
Now Jean Grey isn’t the only telepath in the X-men or the Marvel universe, for that matter. She’s not even the most powerful. Professor Charles Xavier, who was played by the insanely-charming Patrick Stewart in the X-men movies, is often cited as the most powerful psychic in the X-men comics. However, Jean Grey is often cited as a close second.
I mention that to make clear that Jean’s talent for telepathy isn’t just good by comic book standards. It’s first team all-pro good. Why does that matter? Well, being such a powerful psychic, it’s hard for her to filter out the thoughts of others. She even remarked in “X-men Apocalypse” that she knows what everyone thinks. Not much surprises her.
This makes her relationship with Cyclops all the more intriguing in the sense that she develops such a strong romantic connection with him, despite being able to read his thoughts and sense his emotions. He, in turn, falls in love with her, knowing full-well she has this kind of power. There isn’t a dirty, deviant thought he can hide from her and he doesn’t mind in the slightest.
Think about that for a moment. Cyclops falls in love with a woman from which he can’t readily hide his thoughts. He can’t even hide his emotions from her. She’s even commented in the comics and in the movies on numerous occasions how she can pick up on his emotions.
Lying to her is impossible. Hiding his feelings from her is impossible. Now on many occasions, Jean Grey tries to make clear that she doesn’t read peoples’ thoughts without permission. The keyword there is she tries. It doesn’t always work. Sometimes she can’t help it. Just ask the recently-outed Iceman.
Regardless of how much Jean Grey respects the privacy of others, it doesn’t prevent her and Cyclops from forging a relationship. It also doesn’t stop that relationship from blossoming into one of the most iconic romances in the history of comics, culminating in X-men #30 where they got married. Even if you’re among those X-men fans who despise their relationship, it’s hard to deny that were pretty damn serious about their love.
Why does this matter? What does it have to do with the future of romance and relationships? Well, think about the dynamics of such a relationship. Cyclops and Jean Grey don’t just share love, intimacy, and legal obligations. They actually share thoughts, as in real, unfiltered thoughts. That’s a dynamic that doesn’t exist in the real world yet, but as brain-to-brain communication technology matures, it will exist soon enough.
If communication is the key to every relationship, then Cyclops and Jean Grey have a master set. With them, there’s no need to put thoughts and feelings into words. There’s no need to make these elaborate gestures to convey how they feel. They don’t even need to argue about it. Their own thoughts convey whatever sentiment they want, be it love, lust, or a craving for corn dogs.
How many relationships in the real world fail because two people can’t properly communicate certain feelings? It happens all the time. It manifests in all kinds of sitcoms, some more than others. Hell, it happens in my own novels, especially in “Skin Deep.”
In addition to those relationships, how many others form on a foundation of lies because two people don’t know what the other is thinking? Someone might think they really love someone. The other might just fake it to get back at an ex-lover or land some big inheritance. It happens and, because these thoughts can be hidden, they can’t know for sure how genuine the romance really is.
In a future where brain-to-brain communication is available and couples can wield it like Cyclops and Jean Grey, the entire dynamic of love and romance changes. There’s no need to carefully navigate social cues in an effort to figure out what someone it thinking, feeling, and wanting. Everything becomes that transparent.
On one hand, this means the self-obsesses douche-bags who see others as walking masturbation toys that breath can’t hide anymore. The pick-up artist, the ladies man, and the Regina Georges of the world are exposed for all to see.
On the other, it also means that people can be certain that they’ve found a lover who genuinely loves them. It means we can be sure that the thoughts our lovers think are honest and true. We’re not blindsided. We’re not mislead. We know because we can make our thoughts known.
From a practical standpoint, it means that society will have to reshape the way people find love, intimacy, and connection. For some, it’ll be downright scary, having to share intimate thoughts with one another. However, we’ve reshaped those concepts before. Remember, there was once a time when marrying for love seemed like a crazy idea.
As is often the case, though, popular culture tends to be ahead of the curve when it comes to social and technological evolution. Star Trek did it with cell phones. Cyclops and Jean Grey may end up doing the same for romance. With that in mind, I’ll leave you with this iconic panel that highlights everything I’ve come to love about the Cyclops/Jean romance.
Let’s face it. There are just some things in the modern world that are destined to disappear. Things like coal power, overt racial discrimination, and the Macarena are destined to become relics of a bygone era. Some already have to some extent. Others, like snail mail, poor WiFi, and the Kardashians, can’t go away soon enough.
So what does this have to do with privacy? Why am I even bringing up privacy? Is this another case of an erotica/romance writer having a few too many glasses of whiskey when he writes? Well, except for the whiskey part, those questions already have answers.
For the past couple of days, I’ve been talking about the emerging technologies that will allow brain-to-brain communication. Like an updated iPhone, it’s one of those technologies that we know is coming. It’s just a matter of getting here and having a major company profit the hell out of it.
You may not think it’s likely now, but at some point someone will find a way to make sharing thoughts an obscenely profitable business. We get people to pay for bottled water and a haunted rubber duck. There are plenty of gullible people with money in this society is what I’m saying.
Going back to privacy, it’s fairly obvious that we’re already in the process of ditching it to some extent. It used to be that the craziest, dumbest, most asinine stuff we said in our day-to-day lives never left our close circle of friends. Now, we feel compelled to share all those crazy thoughts online.
Look at me. I’m doing that right now. I’m sharing thoughts I never would’ve shared in polite conversation 20 years ago. Then again, 20 years ago I had a horrible acne problem and the piss-poor social skills of a ferret so it’s not like I was in a position to do much sharing. The internet and social media has changed all that. It’s given us an opportunity to kick our concepts of privacy in the balls and beat it with a hammer into something else.
However, it’s the generation after that who may really deliver the final nail in the coffin of privacy. That generation will likely come into a world where brain-to-brain communication has matured, is a growing business, and has people bitching about fees for sharing certain thoughts. How will that generation view privacy?
Well for once, we really don’t need a thought experiment or some exercise in existential logic. In fact, we need only a history book and a general understanding of how humans form tribes. Go to any message board that celebrates a certain romantic pairing on “Buffy The Vampire Slayer.” It doesn’t take much.
Nature has wired our bodies to be good at a lot of things, albeit in hilariously crude ways. Just look at the design of the male scrotum. However, one design that has been remarkably efficient is our ability to form tribes and groups. It’s that kind of coordination and cooperation that has helped us dominate this planet, build civilizations, and form Hugh Jackman fan clubs.
It’s also this uncanny ability to form tribes that’ll make the techno-telepathy of brain-to-brain communication so appealing to future generations. It may seem crazy now to those of us who still dread the thought of someone hacking our phones and sharing all the embarrassing pictures of us on FaceBook. I’ve always worked under the assumption that someone has already hacked my phone and that keeps me from capturing anything too compromising in my private moments.
However, with techno-telepathy, there’s nothing left to compromise. Everything is laid out for someone else to see. Your hopes, dreams, fears, and perverse sexual fantasies are all laid out in a beautifully rendered image. Can we even cope with that kind of transparency?
Well, the average congressperson notwithstanding, we have kind of done it before. In fact, we had that kind of transparency for a good chunk of human history. This brings me back to “Sex At Dawn,” a book that has been remarkably useful in discussing such sexy, taboo topics. In addition to talking about the shapes of penises and female orgasms, it does talk about privacy.
Granted, it’s not as sexy as the other topics discussed, but it is relevant in that it explores the pre-interent, pre-agriculture concepts of privacy. In short, there was none. In fact, from a purely practical standpoint, there couldn’t be any privacy.
That’s because those societies were hunter/gatherer societies. These societies were small, close-knit tribes of people who worked together, cooperated, and shared resources to survive. This is not some hippie commune out of John Lennon fantasy. These were very functional, very adaptive groups that played a big part in how human beings evolved.
In those societies, privacy is kind of redundant because they need to share resources. They don’t have big cities or elaborate infrastructure. They need to cooperate or they won’t survive. Part of cooperation means being overly transparent. That means sharing shelter, living space, food, and lovers. Yes, sharing can be sexy. It just comes at the cost of privacy. Some may think that’s a fair trade.
When you don’t have a lot of property or resources of your own, what’s the point of privacy? It’s not that it’s ignored. It’s not that it doesn’t exist to some degree. It’s just redundant in a hunter/gatherer setting. Keep in mind though, it’s in this setting that our species evolved. For the caveman in us, privacy is more a construct than an innate trait.
That’s because our concept or privacy really didn’t exist until the modern concept of property rights emerged. The concept of a public/private sphere is a fairly modern invention. Again, it’s largely out of necessity. When you have a society that relies heavily on accumulating and distributing resources on a large scale, the need for some measure of privacy is unavoidable, if only to avoid extortion and exploitation.
This is where the techno-telepathy of brain-to-brain communication really gets interesting. Whereas modern notions of privacy are relatively recent, less private habits of our cavemen ancestors are still hardwired into our tribal traits. That means the growth of techno-telepathy could be one of those tools actually complements our caveman nature rather instead of conflicting with it.
What could this mean for us as individuals and as a society? What could it mean for our love lives? Well, if our history as hunter/gatherers is any indication, this tool would make it far easier for us to form telepathic tribes, of sorts. We find people who appreciate and share our thoughts. We develop close bonds with those people. Some may even become romantic and sexual. When you’re sharing your most intimate thoughts with people, that’s kind of inevitable.
It could be disruptive or it could be productive for society. When we start sharing both literal and figurative thoughts with one another, privacy as we know it will take on a whole new meaning. It won’t disappear completely. It’ll just change. We’re terrified of sharing naked pictures of ourselves now. How will we feel when we start sharing are deepest, dirtiest, sexiest thoughts?
It’s an interesting notion to consider and one I hope to see play out in the coming decades. I have a feeling it’ll give me plenty of sexy ideas for future novels.
How many times have you wished you could hypnotize your significant other into putting on that sexy costume they refuse to wear? Hell, how many times have you wished you could hypnotize the clerk at the DMV just to make them think you’re next in line? My point is there are all times when we wish we could manipulate the minds of others.
There are some out there who think it’s already happening. They’re mainly Alex Jones fans who think that fluoride in drinking water is a secret plot by the Illuminati to make us dumb, submissive, and gullible enough to listen to men like Alex Jones. Those kinds of people probably aren’t going care much about this post, but those with functional frontal lobes should be able to get something out of this.
Why do I bring up hypnosis? Well, it sort of builds on what I discussed before about the future brain-to-brain communication, or techno-telepathy if you want to call it that. That technology is underway and it is progressing. It’s very likely that within my lifetime, people will be able to share their most intimate thoughts with somebody and that probably includes their deepest sexual fantasies, including those that involve clowns.
Before we get to that point, though, there are other ways to tap into the vast and perverse abyss that is the human mind. Granted, it’s not as scientific, nor is it as effective as we wish it were, but it still has some merit. It’s called hypnosis. It is a real thing. It’s just not as effective as cartoons, movies, and bad pornos would have us believe.
As such, I’m not talking about the kind of stage hypnosis you see in Las Vegas that involve bikini models for assistants. That’s not real hypnosis. That’s a stage act. That’s Hamilton with more partial nudity. Real hypnosis has some basis in psychological phenomena. According to Psychology Today, real hypnosis is defined as:
A state of highly focused attention or concentration, often associated with relaxation, and heightened suggestibility.
That makes sense on some levels. When you’re so focused and relaxed, you’ll basically admit you stole the Mona Lisa. You’re relaxed. You don’t care. It’s more a brain hack than it is mental manipulation.
In a sense, it’s an indirect form of brain-to-brain communication. It doesn’t involve actually hearing thoughts. It doesn’t even involve manipulating them. It just involves putting people into a state where they actually share the thoughts they don’t usually share.
Naturally, this can get sexually charged and not in the way a bad porno would suggest. Most everyone concedes that we live in cultures with some pretty mixed up or repressed views about sexuality. As such, it’s going to really mess up our thoughts and attitudes about sexuality. Just look at Texas.
Being able to share those thoughts, either through hypnosis or techno-teleapthy, will go a long way towards refining sexual attitudes. It gives people with anxieties and uncertainties a chance to share these feelings in ways that don’t involve using exceedingly uncomfortable words. We can, in turn, leave those words to aspiring erotica/romance writers like myself.
With hypnosis, there’s a way to tap into those messed-up, exceedingly repressed thoughts. I’m not talking about the kind of thoughts that reveal some uptight Texas pastor is having sex with gay prostitutes on the side either. I’m talking about the kind of thoughts that would make registered republicans gasp in horror.
For now, hypnosis is the closest we have to work with. It has shortcomings, but it’s better than expensive therapy. It can also make for some pretty sexy manifestations. As it just so happened, the fine folks at Cracked.com did a whole article on it. If you’re wearing dry panties, it’s definitely worth a read if only for three words: hands free orgasm.
Yes, by the way, being an erotic hypnotist is a thing. I only wish I could punch my old high school guidance counselor in the jaw for not letting me know that was an option. Granted, it’s an occupation that can get creepy, as revealed in the article, but I think you can say that about any job that deals with peoples’ inner-most fantasies.
I don’t know for sure how brain-to-brain communication will affect this process. I imagine it will build on what erotic hypnotherapists have been doing for years. I still look forward to the day when we can give each other orgasms with our thoughts alone. When our brains and genitals have that kind of synergy, the world will be a better place.
What would you do if you could share your most intimate thoughts directly with your lover? That’s not a rhetorical question. That’s not another one of my sexy thought experiments either. It’s a real, honest question that may end up having major implications in the real world.
I like to keep up with technology. I’ve always been interested in what the future holds. However, I’m one of those guys who likes to contemplate how this future technology will impact our sex lives. It’s not just because it makes for some crazy sexy thoughts. As an aspiring erotica/romance writer, it helps give me new ideas. Some have already found their way into my novels, namely “Skin Deep.”
So why does something like sharing thoughts seem so relevant? It’s not like it’s a new idea. Sharing thoughts, or telepathy as some call it, is already a major part of popular culture. From movies like “Inception” to iconic superheroes like Charles Xavier from the X-men, it’s just one of those fun concepts that makes for interesting plots, but doesn’t exactly surprise anyone anymore.
That could change one day though. In fact, that day may come sooner than you think. Brain-to-brain communication, or techno-telepathy if you want to call it that, has been under development for a long time now. It’s not just so we can share our dirtiest fantasies, including those that involve clowns and steel dildos. There are major medical applications to this concept.
Earlier this year, the first major tests in brain-to-brain communication allowed two humans to exchange thoughts, albeit in a very limited fashion, to answer a series of yes-or-no questions. This isn’t David Blaine playing mind games with card tricks. These are ordinary people using extraordinary technology to share thoughts. For those trapped in comas or paralyzed by strokes, this technology is critical.
While I’m all for helping those in comas or those who are paralyzed communicate, I think the larger implications of techno-telepathy are more enticing, especially when applied to our love lives. All technology starts out bulky, expensive, and limited at first. Then, once it matures and people realize it has profitable, non-medical uses, it gets more compact and efficient. It happened with smartphones. It can happen with techno-telepathy.
This technology may still be a ways towards maturing, but it’s no longer something that’s just on the drawing board. This technology has already come out of the womb and is starting to grow. All the incentives are there. It’s just a matter of time and energy.
So going back to my original question, what would you do if it were possible to share your intimate thoughts with another? What kind of thoughts would you share? Would it make you and your partner closer? Would it make them run away in disgust, traumatized that anyone could think about their old history teacher in that sort of way?
Granted, there may be some awkward moments. The entire first half of the movie “What Women Want” explores those moments. However, we humans are capable of overcoming awkwardness. If we can overcome puberty, we can overcome pretty much very kind of awkwardness that doesn’t involve our mothers and the delivery guy.
It happens so often that we think it’s normal. Two people are in love. They want to build a relationship. They struggle because someone says something that gets taken the wrong way. They can’t be sure what they meant or how they meant it so they get all upset and agitated about it. Hilarity, heartache, and entertainment follow, usually culminating in some big romantic speech by Hugh Grant at the end.
Pretty much all of that crap could be avoided if those involved could just share their thoughts. There would be no ambiguity. There would be no doubt, uncertainty, or reservation.
Imagine a relationship where you knew your partner really loved you. They weren’t trying to get your money. They weren’t trying to impress their parents. They weren’t secretly gay or bisexual. They just really love you and you didn’t have to doubt that. What would that mean for your relationship and others like you?
If we live in a world where we can share our most intimate thoughts, then would that strengthen our romantic bonds? Would that reduce the amount of stagnant, passionless relationships? Would it also necessarily undermine the privacy of our thoughts?
These are all important questions to contemplate, especially for those of the coming generation who already share so much of themselves on social media. Is this the natural evolution of intimacy and romance? Only time will tell. I just hope I can turn it into some sexy stories before then.
This weekend has been a big deal for X-men fans, comic book fans, and people who just think Hugh Jackman is God’s gift to this world. The “Logan” movie is out. If you haven’t seen it yet, what the hell is your excuse? Short of a death in the family, a life-threatening illness, or a date with Taylor Swift, there is none.
It’s exciting, but bittersweet for X-men fans. With this monumental movie, Hugh Jackman is hanging up his claws. He will no longer play Wolverine. I’ve talked about why this movie matters and why it’s importance goes beyond catering to comic book fans like myself. There will probably be many more discussions on this movie and its associated topics down the line. For now, though, Hugh Jackman has done his part.
What can you say about the man that hasn’t already been said or screamed by women with vivid imaginations during sex? He’s one of the most likable guys in Hollywood who doesn’t sell cocaine. He’s a truly special soul.
As a noted X-men fan, I can say for certain that his contributions to X-men and comic book movies will be celebrated for generations to come. Whatever he does next in his storied career, I wish him nothing but the best. May he enjoy critical praise and nude scenes with every actress on “Game of Thrones” for the rest his career.
That’s why I’d like to dedicate this week’s edition of “Sexy Sunday Thoughts” to the man who dedicated 17 years of his life to playing everyone’s favorite razor-clawed, whiskey chugging, mutton-chops wielding Canadian. I doubt he’ll ever read this, but Mr. Jackman, consider this my way of saying thanks.
“Teenagers have any number of reasons for being miserable, but you rarely see miserable teenagers with healthy sex lives. Coincidence?”
I like to think of myself as an expert on miserable teenagers, seeing as how I had a talent for misery throughout high school. I know all about the things that make a teenager sad, depressed, and just plain pissed off at the world.
For the teenagers that had healthy sex lives, and I know this because teenagers suck at shutting up, they weren’t really that miserable. It turns out that, despite all the fears about teen sex, it is possible for some teenagers to be responsible about it. The result is less misery. Go figure.
“Teach a man to love a woman and he’ll dedicate himself to finding the one for him. Teach a man to go down on a woman and that woman he’s seeking will find him.”
I consider this critical romantic advice for men who seek the love of women. As an aspiring erotica/romance writer, I explore all sorts of ideas about love, sex, and intimacy. In that exploration, I’ve learned that it’s not enough to just be passionate about finding a significant other. You also have to give those whose love you seek incentive.
When it comes to incentives, it’s hard to top good oral sex. It doesn’t matter how bad a day a man or woman is having. If their day ends with good oral sex, it’s a good day. That, my fellow men, will streamline any romantic quest.
“Does a prostitute at a singles bar defeat the purpose?”
People go to singles bars to seek out new romantic partners, hook up, and get laid if their lucky. It’s a complex game, one that requires an elaborate mating dances of sorts. Put it in a nature show and it’s basically a documentary with more rap music in the background.
A prostitute, male or female, circumvents that dance. There’s no ambiguity with their goals. There’s no elaborate dance beyond haggling how much extra it costs for oral. Not saying prostitutes have no place in a singles bar. They definitely do. However, they do sort of undermine the principle.
“If pole dancing qualifies as exercise, then lap dances should count as romance.”
Pole dancing is a new fitness trend. That’s not a joke. Seriously, this is actually a thing. I’m not too big on fitness fads these days, but this just feels like an excuse for people to exercise their elaborate stripper fantasies that they don’t want to share with their significant others.
If that’s really the case, then they why do things halfway? Why not go the extra distance and throw lap dances into the mix? If you’re going to call stuff like that fitness, then let’s at least be as flexible when it comes to romance.
“A trained gynecologist has no excuse for being bad at cunnilingus.”
This is just basic logic. Doctors go to school for a long time and have to learn a lot of things about the human body that most people never get to know, nor do they want to know. A gynecologist is just one of many specialties and I imagine it has a certain appeal that other parts of the body just can’t match.
So if someone is a trained and competent gynecologist, they should know the mechanics of giving women good oral sex. If they don’t, then what’s that say about their competence as a doctor? You can get away with being incompetent at some things. Gynecology is not one of them.
“Crossfit is to exercise what fisting is to sex.”
This is more an indictment about crossfit than it is about fisting. Now we all have certain sex acts that we consider uncomfortable or extreme. Some are just built for those acts and for those people, I say more power to them.
Crossfit, however, is one of those things where people seem to go out of their way to punish their bodies. It’s intense, it’s strenuous, and it doesn’t work for everybody. However, the people involved, much like those who love fisting too much, don’t shut the fuck up about it. Now I’m all for better sex and exercise. I don’t need people getting evangelical about it.
“No epic love story ever began with a drunken bar bet that involved public nudity.”
I’m sure there are any number of one-night stands and hookups that began with bar bets and public nudity. I may even write about some of those stories in my novels at some point. For a truly epic love story, though, I’m just as certain that it’s not a viable starting point.
Now I’m not saying it’s impossible. I’m not saying there isn’t a place for bar bets and public nudity, especially during Mardi Gras. However, if you’re trying to craft an epic love story, you’re probably going to need a better starting point.
“A teenage boy can’t truly say he’s smart until he’s learned how to get semen stains out of his bed sheets.”
This is something men everywhere have to deal with at some point, but rarely talk about. As teenagers, our dicks get us into all sorts of trouble. Even when we’re sleeping, they like to screw with us. So when our dreams get a little too vivid, the results tend to lead to awkward conversations with parents.
For those teenage boys who consider themselves smart and resourceful, they find a way to hide the evidence and avoid those conversations. I don’t care how many AP classes you take. If you’re not smart enough to hide the evidence of your Jennifer Lawrence fantasies from your mother, then you can’t call yourself smart.
That’s it for now. On behalf of Wolverine fans and people who just fine Hugh Jackman sexy as hell, I thank you. Mr. Jackman, this one’s for you. You spent 17 years playing Wolverine, the most badass comic book character of all time. Thank you for making the world a little sexier.
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