Thoughts on the End of Brangelina

I’m not a fan of celebrity culture. I never got the appeal of tying my identity so closely to a public figure that I get emotionally attached to the course of their life. That can be dangerous. There are too many Mel Gibsons, Charlie Sheens, and Gary Buseys in this world. You’re basically putting a big target on your identity and giving a squad of snipers a loaded bazooka.

That’s why if I’m going to tie my identity to anyone, it’s going to be a fictional character, such as superheroes in comics. As anyone who has followed this blog knows, I’m a big fan of superheroes and often use them to make important points about romance and pop culture. At least with fictional characters, they can’t be caught fucking the babysitter outside a bad porn parody.

All that said, I’m inclined to comment on the recent news surrounding the divorce of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. I know. I can sense your eyes rolling and your heads banging against the wall. This is not why you come to this blog. You come here to be entertained and updated by the twisted thoughts of an aspiring romance/erotica writer. Then again, it’s not like a lot of people come to this blog anyways so I don’t think it makes a difference.

I don’t know if it’s a cosmic coincidence or lousy timing on my part, but this monumental celebrity split happened in the same week where I’ve been discussing/ranting on our collective failings when it comes to divorce and commitment. It’s kind of spooky that I bring this topic up and then a famous couple splits. Maybe that means I should bet more money in my fantasy football pool this weekend or maybe my timing just sucks that much.

Whatever the case, let’s get this over with. Let’s talk about this latest celebrity heartbreak that we all knew as Brangelina. What happened? They were so in love. Their story was like a movie in and of itself. They meet on the set of Mr. and Ms. Smith, hit it off, and fall so madly in love that it causes Brad Pitt to leave Jennifer Anniston, who looks like this.

There had to be a hell of a love to draw them together like that. It had to be a pretty powerful love for them to stay together for over a decade, having children and even adopting a few along the way. Were they the typical Hollywood couple? Hell no, but then again there’s no such thing as a “typical couple” in Hollywood. That’s a flawed concept, sort of like “well-adjusted former child star.”

Every relationship is different. Every relationship has its quirks and proclivities. As I pointed out in an earlier post, every relationship has expectations as well and most of the time, these expectations aren’t reasonable to say the least.

Men want to be married to multiple supermodels who spend their days making sandwiches. Woman want to be married to a rich prince who spends his days massaging their feet and carrying her bags while she’s shopping with his credit card. These are the laughable expectations that we’ve all been fed by movies, TV, and bad love songs for decades. The difference with a couple like Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt is that in their world, these expectations aren’t that ridiculous.

When you look at the details, Brad and Angelina had a lot more going for them than most celebrity couples. They were both very successful in their own right. Angelina Jolie has an Oscar. Brad Pitt is one of the most bankable movie stars in all of Hollywood. They each found success in their own way and their success was not dependent on one another. They were very much equals, which is rare in a place like Hollywood, so much so that you have to look to X-men comics for examples.

On paper, these two had everything they needed to make it work. If one of them hadn’t been successful, then that would’ve created some unhealthy dynamics to say the least. Speaking in terms of history and economics, when someone is overly dependent on someone else, it tends to leave a bit too much room for abuse and neglect. That’s just a sad fact of human nature.

When we’re among those we consider subordinates, we don’t treat them as equals. It’s not necessarily evil. It’s kind of a holdover from our evolutionary past. Remember, humans are evolved from predators. Predators, like wolves and bears, have to see their prey as subordinate. It makes them easier to hunt. Since our brains are so poorly wired by the blunt instrument that is nature, we tend to do a bad job of differentiating between survival and romance. Not saying Mother Nature is incompetent, but she can be pretty crude.

Since this wasn’t the case with Brad and Angelina, this must mean other forces were at work. Plenty of news outlets and gossip sites are speculating what those forces are. It may be infidelity. It may be drug use. It may upheavals in their careers. Who knows? I’m not going to speculate. I’m not going to contribute to that shit storm. If Brad and Angelina want to get a divorce, they can and it’s none of our god-damn business.

With this in mind, I’m going to say something that’s probably going to offend a certain crowd of people, especially those who got emotionally attached to their romance. Put the pitchforks down. Unclench your fists. I feel like this has to be said so here goes.

It’s perfectly fine for Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie to divorce because they can manage it better than you or I ever will. As such, they do not deserve sympathy.

Am I assuming more than I should about the intricacies of their personal lives? Maybe I am. I don’t deny that. However, I think there’s a point to be made by this split and it ties right into my arguments about our flawed approach to marriage and commitment.

It’s because that Brad and Angelina are a relationship of equals, as I described earlier, that they’re able to deal with this in a much better way than most. This isn’t a case of Tiger Woods’ ex-wife asking for $750 million. These are two people who don’t need to gouge one another for money.

They’re both rich and successful on their own terms. The only issue they need to resolve is custody of their six kids, which can be emotionally frustrating, but not nearly as much when money is involved.

Make no mistake. Keeping money out of the equation makes anything easier, especially divorce. Remove the money and you just have two people trying to find a way to move out of the same house and agree on the assets. That just involves legally binding negotiations, which is something people have been doing for centuries. We don’t need to subvert our evolutionary wiring to make that work.

I understand that there are still those upset by this split. I understand I’ve probably made a few enemies by commenting on this issue. That’s the chance you take when you share your thoughts on the internet and I gladly take that chance.

It’s impossible to know for sure what drove Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie to divorce. Citing the laughably obscure legal term, “irreconcilable differences,” leaves many blanks for our perverse imaginations to fill in. Our imaginations rarely line up with reality because our imaginations rarely stay tied to the real world.

The only assumption I feel comfortable making about this relationship is that, as is so often the case, they went into this relationship with expectations. Despite all the money and resources they had, they were disappointed when those expectations weren’t met. Once they realized that they couldn’t be met, they ended it. Sometimes the best we can hope for us that, within a relationship of equals, the end is beneficial for both sides.

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Of Commitments and Disappointments

A big part of every meaningful romance is commitment. Without commitment, a romance has no more depth and meaning than a dentist appointment. It’s a big part of the process that comes with loving someone enough to want to sacrifice for them. Being willing to sacrifice, share, and understand is part of the foundation that makes a romance work.

I say all this because we, as a society, do a piss-poor job of fostering commitment. The fact that I’m saying this shortly after my rant on marriage and divorce is not a coincidence. This is an important issue that involves major expectations (some of them flawed) and important life lessons (that are difficult to heed).

I discuss this issue with the full admission that I have a difficult history with commitment. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a steady girlfriend and, without getting overly personal, none of these relationships progressed beyond a certain point. We never lived together. We never shared a bathroom. We never shared a toothbrush. We never really got the chance.

So please don’t think of me as an expert on this issue. I’m not. I’m just someone who deals with commitment out of necessity. As a romance/erotica writer, I have to understand and explore it on some levels. Even without relationship experience, this is surprisingly hard.

There are all sorts of jokes we can make about commitment these days, but there are a few common themes. Like many flawed concepts, these jokes have a clear gender disparity. Commitment joke for men are very different compared to women and it shows in our assumptions about each other.

Most of these jokes and flawed assumptions can be boiled down to a few simple stereotypes. Women want commitment from men. Men want to avoid commitment at every turn. Women want someone to provide for them and cater to their every waking need without question. Men want to be able to put their penis in whoever they want with as little effort as possible.

Are these jokes funny? Hell yeah! I laugh at them all the time. Are these assumptions flawed? Definitely. No man or woman fits perfectly into the stereotype that manifests in every sitcom, Beatles song, and Hugh Grant movie. We are a diverse and varied species, both in appearance and in thought. It’s just too damn hard sifting through all that variety. We just try to make it easier on ourselves by making assumptions.

However, making assumptions is not the problem. It’s when those assumptions turn into expectations that we get problems. We’ve raised an entire generation of children to believe that the world operates by the same rules as Disney movies. Then, they find out how much we lied to them and wonder why they’re so jaded and bitter. What else explains the rise of hippies, hipsters, and reality TV?

For women, the expectations place a heavy burden on men. As young girls, movies and TV give the impression that they’re all princesses and one day they’re dutiful prince will come along. He’ll be big, strong, handsome, and understanding in every way. Most importantly, he’ll be 100-percent dedicated to them and only them. He’s basically a pet who owns a castle and pays for their shit.

For men, it’s just as bad, but in a different context. Growing up, boys (at least those without personality disorders) don’t see themselves as the Prince Charming that the girls want. They see themselves as the heroic underdog, fighting against the odds and overcoming them so they can get the glory, the fame, and the pretty girl that comes with it.

They think that the dynamics of every Rocky and Karate Kid movie ever made are accurate representations of how the world works. They’re destined to be just as disappointed as the girls who think they’re princesses waiting for a Prince Charming.

They think that just being the underdog and having the drive to overcome the odds is enough. Things like talent, chemistry, and understanding are all secondary. They just need to stick to the script, wait for the pretty girl to fall into their arms, and let the credits role.

Given these laughable expectations, is it any wonder that we suck at commitment these days? By we, I don’t just mean me. I’m referring to society as a whole when it comes to romance. Men and women place all these ridiculous expectations on their relationships and how they approach themselves. Then, they get upset when those wholly ridiculous expectations aren’t set.

This is akin to lighting a fire-cracker, holding it in your hand, and getting upset that your hand got burned. We set ourselves up for disappointment, get upset when that disappointment hits, and blame others for it, which in turn gives us more reasons to not commit to one another.

It’s a sad and brutal cycle. It’s a self-inflicted wound that manifests slowly and subtly, torturing us like death by a thousand paper-cuts. It’s at a point where women don’t just expect a Prince Charming and men don’t just expect a pretty girl. They think they’re entitled to it and will gut punch anyone who may deny them.

This is a dangerous mentality that plagues both genders, but being the optimist I am, I see glimmers of hope. I even highlighted one this past summer when an X-men comic showed that the relationship between Cyclops and Jean Grey didn’t have to stick to overplayed Disney tropes. I think an emerging generation is realizing that these old expectations are bullshit and we, as a people, need to refine our understanding of commitment.

There are still extremes. The contract Christian Grey wanted Anastasia Steele to sign in “50 Shades of Grey” shows that we can go overboard with our expectations. At least in Christian Grey’s case, he presented a legally binding document that limited the ambiguity. I don’t think we need to be that legalistic in the real world, but the concept is sound.

First, we acknowledge our expectations. Second, we share them with others and do our best to ensure they’re understood. Finally, we recognize that sometimes we’re the asshole when our expectations aren’t met.

At the end of the day, commitment is a two-way street. Sometimes the lanes in that street are uneven, as I pointed out in my divorce post. That just means we have to navigate that street more carefully. There are going to be differences and not just between the genders. Those differences are bound to change as time goes on. The key, in the end, is to find someone whose differences and expectations match your own. That’s what makes for meaningful commitment and more meaningful romance.

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ANOTHER Rejection and “Embers of Eros” Update

I’m trying not to make too much a habit of this. I don’t want this blog to become one long stream of me bitching and complaining about how hard it is to become a successful writer. There’s enough bitching and complaining on the internet as it stands. Just look at the comment section of any movie message board and watch your faith in humanity shrivel.

That said, I do want to provide continuous updates on my various writing endeavors, as fruitless they may be. I mentioned a few days ago how I finally heard from Crimson Frost Publishing that “Embers of Eros” just needed my approval on the edits. They said they would send those edits to me on Monday. It’s Tuesday now and I’ve heard nothing. I can’t say I’m surprised, but I am ready to bang my head on the wall again.

On top of that, I received yet another rejection letter from a publisher on my latest project, “The Big Game.” Perhaps I was expecting too much from this book. It’s much shorter and far less ambitious than my previous works. Even so, it makes me that much more inclined to bang my head against the wall. This is actually the extent of their response:

Thank you for your submission. However, it is not a good fit for us.

I know. It’s not exactly specific. I can’t really expect it to be specific. These people probably get so many submissions on a daily basis that they’ve suffered irreparable brain damage from banging their heads against the wall in frustration. I can appreciate that, albeit begrudgingly.

It’s starting to look more and more likely that I’ll have to go the self-publishing route with “The Big Game.” I’ll try to make a decision on that by the end of the year. I’ll probably have to do the same with “Embers of Eros” if Crimson Frost Publishing starts ignoring me again. It’ll be a disheartening way to end the year, but I hope that sets things up for improvement in 2017.

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How Men and Women (Legally) Screw Each Other (Over)

There are a great many ways for men to offend women. In fact, there are so many that men these days have to walk on egg-shells every day, picking and choosing their words as carefully as possible. They have no idea whether asking a woman about her favorite kind of ice cream will result in a date or a sexual harassment claim.

We’re at a point in our culture where pretty much anything can be construed as sexual innuendo. Take the following sentence:

Sure, I can give you a ride, ma’am.

It seems innocent enough. People probably say this in polite conversation every day. Now, channel you’re inner 13-year-old who just discovered internet porn. That ride isn’t referring to a car and what the man wants to give the woman has nothing to do with traveling. If the guy’s dick had a mouth, it would probably say this:

Sure, I’ll give you a ride, ma’am. Now come over here and sit on my dick while I fuck you!

I’m not saying that happens outside a bad porno. I’m just saying that it’s implied more than we care to admit.

We live in an era where the old patriarchal order is giving way to a new, more equitable way of doing things. By and large, this transition has been very positive. Few outside the clergy and Congress would argue that society is better when both genders get a chance to live their lives as equals instead of adhering to a rigid caste system where the individuals at the top get to decide what, who, and how often they fuck.

As positive as this new way of doing this is, there are a few wrinkles that we’ve yet to iron out. I’m not just talking about the wage gap, spousal abuse, or gender discrimination either. Instead, I want to focus on something a bit more subtle. I want to focus on the other side of the gender imbalance coin that often goes unnoticed.

One of the oldest and most effective ways to offend a woman these days is to tell her to get back in the kitchen and make a sandwich. I don’t know what it is about wanting women to make sandwiches. Making is a sandwich is not that hard. Plus, I kind of like making my own decisions about how much peanut butter I use. That’s just me.

For whatever reason though, the idea of a woman making a man a sandwich is symbolic of that old Father Knows Best mentality that women belong in the kitchen, men belong at work, gays belong in the closet, and sex belongs in a darkened bedroom. We all know that old trope and even most men thinks it’s laughable. However, there’s another unspoken side to that laughable trope that few talk about and isn’t a laughing matter.

Let’s re-examine that old sandwich joke for a moment. Let’s examine it from both sides time. We all know this side from the man:

Shut up and make me a sandwich!

However, what about the side of the woman that says:

Shut up and sign this legal document that entitles me to half your shit and custody of your kids whenever the fuck I feel like it!

Does that sound right? Does that sound like something any woman would say out loud? Of course not. Women wouldn’t say this out loud these days any more than a man would order them to make him a sandwich. However, this dynamic is an inescapable part of modern gender dynamics and it’s making us hate each other way more than we should.

I’ve discussed before on this blog how certain cultural taboos are driving the two genders apart and ruining our sex lives. At least those taboos and quirks aren’t legally enforced. What I just described though does have the full weight of the law behind it. We don’t call it a taboo though. We call it no-fault divorce.

I can already sense some people cringing at the mere mention of the word. Divorce is one of those few concepts that’s hard to make sexy, even for an aspiring erotica/romance writer. I know how ugly it can get. I come from a family that was shaped by divorce. While my family never let it get too ugly, it’s still the ultimate mood-killer that can turn any kind of passion into a toxic (not to mention expensive) mistake.

The modern concept of divorce is actually very new in the grand scheme of things. For most of human civilization, divorce was only granted if there was cause. If a man beat up his wife, cheated on her, or lied to her about the premise of their relationship, then that was grounds for divorce. People couldn’t just get divorced because they felt like it.

That all began to change in the mid to late 20th century. Here in America, the great state of California enacted the first no fault divorce law in 1969, a year that isn’t that ancient when you consider how many people these days recall/complain about it. By 1983, the same year Michael Jackson released Thriller, nearly every state in the union had no-fault divorce laws on the books. When you consider that civilization as we know it is over 4,000 years old, this may as well be the historical equivalent of an abrupt kick to the balls.

This is a painfully apt metaphor because this phenomenon completely changed the dynamics of marriage, especially for men. It shows in the data. According to the Centers for Disease Control, divorce rates really began to spike around the late 60s and early 70s, which is around the same time that no-fault divorce entered the picture.

Granted, there had been spikes before, but these usually came in conjunction with wars and economic upheavals. That’s understandable to some degree. It’s easy to imagine a marriage getting overly strained at a time when bombs are dropping and everybody is flat broke. No-fault divorce took a different path, but this time it screwed over one side more than others.

Once again, it all comes back to economics. I know. It’s right up there with chicken pox and dead kittens in terms of unsexiness, but it’s still the primary driver of damn near everything that guides human civilization.

Using the same caveman logic I’ve used before, we can see the incentives that guided marriage for most of human history. Remember, it wasn’t until recently that people started marrying for love. Most of the time, marriage was a loveless business arrangement. Even without the love though, it had incentives.

Men needed women who could bear children that would inherit their property and/or work the fields. Men can’t have children so they need to provide a home for a woman in which to bear those children. By marrying a man, a woman got a home and a steady supply of care. By marrying a woman, a man got children who could work the fields and inherit the property. It’s a model that served civilization well for a long time…to a point.

The problem with this model is that it had a lot of incentives to keep women in the home and out of the workforce. Remember, this is also an era where most women died in childbirth and there weren’t as many tools with which to maintain the home. Keeping women in the home helped protect them to some degree while the men did the back-breaking labor that their wealthy overlords demanded.

That model needed tweaking in the modern era. It was no longer enough for men to just work the fields and fight wars anymore. The economy became more complex. Opportunities became more varied. As a result, new incentives emerged that drew women into the workforce. Over the course of the 20th century, women became as integral a part of the economy as men. They still aren’t entirely equal in many cases, but compared to 95 percent of human history, it’s pretty damn equal.

Unfortunately, this equality doesn’t extend to divorce. While women are gaining more education and independence, we still have these old taboos and biases that cling to us like ticks. Is a marriage in trouble? It must be the man’s fault. Is a woman unhappy? It must be the man’s fault. Is a home unstable and unhealthy? It must be the man’s fault.

Turn on any sitcom, watch any movie, or listen to any song and the themes are almost all the same. Every problem in every relationship can be heaped on the selfish, arrogant, whiny, insecure, irresponsible, irredeemable man. Men don’t love their children as much. They don’t put as much energy into a relationship. They’re more selfish and stupid. It’s the basis of pretty much every single episode of the Simpsons and Family Guy.

Is it any wonder why, according to the National Parents Organization, that there’s an unmistakable bias in the judicial system towards men in divorce court? Women tend to get custody of the kids, half the man’s assets, and regular alimony payments. On top of that, the man doesn’t even have to cheat on her. She can get this all if she fills out the right paperwork and has a competent divorce attorney. In that sense, the movie Liar Lair may as well be a goddamn documentary.

Go back to the economics for a moment. Look at the incentives as they stand. Then, picture this overly simple conversation between a man and a woman.

Sure! I’ll have sex with you and have your kids. Just sign this legal document that entitles me to half your assets and custody of your kids if I ever feel unhappy enough for any reason whatsoever.

Is it any wonder why marriage rates are declining rapidly among millenials? Is it any wonder why men are reluctant to commit these days? Is it any wonder why some men show hostile attitudes towards women?

This is a problem. This is making it difficult for us to love each other. Men and women can hate each other all we want. Our biological wiring doesn’t give a shit what the law says. It still drives us to want to be together. We can’t turn that drive off, but we can do something about these perverse incentives. We just have to acknowledge they are perverse and realize that there are more effective ways to love one another.

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(Long) Overdue Update (I Hope) on “Embers of Eros”

It’s been a while since I talked about the status of “Embers of Eros” and Crimson Frost Books. It’s actually been a long while. I haven’t mentioned this issue on my blog since July. There’s a reason for that and a distressingly good reason at that.

I haven’t heard a peep from Crimson Frost in nearly two months. There are celebrity marriages that last that long. It led me to believe that they either went bankrupt or just forgot about me entirely. Either way is troubling and makes me wonder if I’ll have to start from square one again, which is not an appealing idea.

Despite my concerns, I’ve been trying to keep it quiet until I actually know what the hell is going on. That has taken much longer than I had hoped, but I finally got a message from them last night. I’ve been told that my book is still on for publication and the current target date is some time in November. I just need to go over the edits first.

Now, I’ve heard this before. This isn’t the first time Crimson Frost has promised a publication date for me. I’ve learned to maintain an healthy (or unhealthy, depending how you look at it) bit of skepticism with their promises. However, this time they do seem a bit more responsive. They say they’ll get the edits to me some time today or tomorrow. If they can actually deliver, then that’ll set some of my concerns at ease. If I don’t hear from them by Wednesday, then I’ll know that nothing has changed.

I’ve been very patient with Crimson Frost, mainly because I have to. They’re the only publisher to date who has given me a chance to publish with them. I’ve yet to hear back from other publishers and at Crimson Frost’s request, I didn’t submit “Embers of Eros” to another publisher. So this story that I’ve had completed for quite some time now is basically in limbo because of these people. I just need them to follow through.

If they can, then all is forgiven. I’ll finally be able to say that I actually published a book on a scale other than self-publishing. That’s a crucial step for me if I want to achieve any level of success as a writer. It’s a small step, but step none-the-less.

I want to give Crimson Frost until the end of the year to make this happen. If they can’t or if they stop responding to my emails again, then I’m wiping my hands clean of them and moving on. I don’t want to start from square one again, but that may be necessary.

At the very least, it seems Crimson Frost is showing some level of commitment. They did give me a cover for Embers of Eros and it’s sexy as hell. To help get some of you excited about this book, here’s what that cover looks like.

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Hope this gets people excited, in more ways than one. I really want this book to find an audience. I want it to be my first sliver of success after seven self-published books that went nowhere. So here’s hoping that Crimson Frost pulls through.

With that said, I do intend to begin discussion of another topic this week. I don’t want to divulge that topic just yet, but it’s bound to be a bit more controversial than hugs and foreplay. Stay tuned for some more juicy details!

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Jack Fisher’s Top 5 Simple Pleasures

I’d like to get less elaborate and less controversial for once. It’s Sunday. There’s football to watch, pizza to eat, and beer to drink. The fact that I can do all these things without my pants on is just a nice bonus. This is one of those days where you just sit back, put your feed up, and enjoy the simpler pleasures of life. With that in mind, I’d like to get a little personal again to cap off my weekend.

I’ve found that getting personal on this blog is a lot of fun. It may even be therapeutic. I’ve admitted that I sleep naked. I’ve admitted a great fondness for foreplay. I’ve even told a very personal story about my circumcision. I dare anyone to get more personal than that. This time, I don’t intend to get that personal. For a nice, warm Sunday afternoon, I’d like to reflect on those smaller, lesser known pleasures in life.

I admit it’s somewhat jarring for an aspiring erotica/romance writer. A great deal of my stories revolve around some of life’s most powerful and endearing pleasures like love, lust, and indulgence. These are themes we see in all sorts of literature, going all the way back to ancient mythology and epic poems. There’s a place for these sorts of stories, but there’s also a place for the pleasures that’ll never get their own epic.

With that in mind, here are Jack Fisher’s Top 5 Simple Pleasures for your Sunday Morning.

Number One: Sleeping In on a Rainy Morning

This is one of those underrated pleasures that feels like a confluence of luck. For one, you have to be in a position to actually sleep in. These days, that’s a challenge in and of itself. As Dennis Miller once put it, “The only reason we’re living longer is because we can’t fit death into our schedule.” Despite this, every now and then we find a day to sleep in and when that day comes on a rainy, dreary morning, it’s downright magic.

You see, it’s usually hard to sleep in when the sun is beaming in through your window, loudly proclaiming, “You don’t get to catch up on all the sleep you missed! I won’t let you! Mwhahahaha!” When it’s raining though, that proclamation is muted. Instead, you get the soothing sound of rain pounding against the window. It triggers this instinct to just curl up under the sheets, purr like a kitten, and sleep. It’s just special in ways that words cannot describe.

Number Two: The Feeling of a Freshly Shaven Face/Leg

Here’s one with a slight gender variation, but not a major one. I come from a long line of burly men with thick beards and wild hair. The men in my family kind of pride ourselves on that look. We take pride in our manly facial hair and how manly it looks. The problem is that if we don’t shave for a few weeks, we look like a creepy mountain man who just choked a bear.

So when I shave my face, that smooth feeling is very fleeting. Naturally, that makes the feeling all the more precious. I don’t know for sure that women feel the same way when they shave their legs, but I think that feeling of smooth skin appeals to everyone on some levels. We all like smooth things, whether it’s our coffee or our flesh. That makes it a feeling worth appreciating.

Number Three: Drinking Hot Chocolate and Wrapping Yourself In Warm Blankets on a Cold Winter Day

Ideally, there will come a day where I’ll be such a successful writer, that or I’ll become the personal gigolo to a rich woman, and I’ll retire to a tropical climate. I’m not a fan of winter. I’m not a fan of cold weather, shoveling snow, and not being able to sit on my porch with no shirt on. That said, winter does create opportunities for certain particular pleasures.

Warm blankets and hot chocolate are the alpha and omega of these feelings. I’ve had days where I’ve spent one too many hours in the blinding cold. I’m shivering. I’m sore. I’m in no condition to do anything. So I brew up some hot chocolate, get some extra blankets, and curl up in front of my TV. It’s a special feeling that warms me up in more than one way.

Number Four: A Satisfying Ending to a Book/Movie/Video Game You’ve Been Enjoying

Let’s face it. It’s rare that our expectations are met, let alone exceeded in this world. We all have to learn at some point that the world isn’t fair and it isn’t going to cater to our whims. Some learn this lesson slower than others, but there are times when it feels like the world throws us a bone.

I feel it whenever I’ve reached the end of a long, satisfying book. I feel it when I see a really good movie for the first time. I feel it when I reach the end of a video game and feel that every bit of effort is worth it. I felt that the first time I saw the Deadpool movie. I felt it the first time I played games like Mass Effect 3 and Final Fantasy X. It’s like reaching the top of a mountain. It’s a great feeling and the fact it doesn’t happen often makes it all the more enjoyable.

Number Five: That First Bite Into A Freshly Baked Cookie/Doughnut/Slice of Pizza

We all have to eat. We all need food to survive. Some enjoy it more than others. Some enjoy it too much. It’s a lot like sex in that respect. Some see it as just a biological process and some turn it into a goddamn religious experience. Also like sex, food has certain situations where it’s extra blissful.

For me, that involves the first bite. We all know that feeling. It’s when we’re at our most hungry. It’s when the food is at its most fresh. It’ll never be as savory and we’ll never want it more before that bite. When it comes, it just feels special. It feels like jumping into a pool on a hot summer day. Sure, we’ll finish our meal and fulfill our basic needs for survival, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the hell out of it.

So those are my Top 5 simple pleasures. I’m sure there are dozens more. I’m sure my list is very different from that of others. So if you have your own list, please share it! What do you consider to be a great simple pleasure that just makes your day a little better? I’d love to know. Life is complicated enough. Simple pleasures are a good way to make it meaningful.

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What Can Bonobo Monkeys Teach Us About Ourselves?

Human nature is a chaotic, complicated, and often frustrating phenomenon. It can be disturbing and scary, but it can also be heart-warming and downright hilarious.

Go on Youtube and watch fifteen minutes of nut shot videos. Then, watch 15 minutes of videos showing soldiers returning to their families. It’ll make you laugh, cry, and smile, not necessarily in that order. So long as you stay away from bad sitcoms and Honey Boo Boo reruns, you’ll feel some level of pride in being human.

That said, we still have room for improvement. Human nature is not a finished product. It’s more like a never-ending beta version of a high-end product where the engineers tasked with fixing it are drunk, stoned, and brain damaged. As an aspiring writer who focuses heavily on the sexier parts of human nature, this is something I need to keep up with to some degree.

This brings me to Bonobo monkeys. Confused? I promise that’s not as big a non-sequiter as it seems. Unless you’re one of those ardent religious types who has to believe that mankind was molded into being by some invisible magic man in the sky, as described in a 2,000-year-old holy book written in multiple languages that nobody even speaks anymore, monkeys offer an important insight into human nature. They’re our closest evolutionary cousin. That means we can learn from them and learn about ourselves.

So why single out Bonobo monkeys? Well, being an erotica/romance writer, a better question would be how could I not? While primate behavior is as varied as the menu on Dunkin Donuts, Bonobos set themselves apart in a big way. They really love to fuck.

When I say they love to fuck, I don’t mean that in the crude way that every porn star claims in the middle of a low-budget skin flick. I mean they love to fuck to a point where it’s a big part of their society. They don’t treat it the same way every sitcom since Leave It To Beaver treats it. They use it to create a stable, cohesive society. Excuse me. I just teared up a little.

This is very much the antithesis of how we humans approach sexuality. Whether by evolution or our own erratic proclivities, we’re downright schizophrenic when it comes to sex. Some societies treat it with open enthusiasm. Some, especially those derived from the Abrahamic traditions, treat it a stabbing pain in our nether regions that we try desperately to ignore. If Bonobos could talk, they’d probably think we’re crazy.

I’ve discussed the many ways our deranged society creates unhealthy attitudes towards sex. They drive us apart. They create conflict between genders. They turn us into hypocrites. They even make us mutilate our own genitals. I know human nature has room for improvement, but even if we grade ourselves on a curve, we have to admit we’re pretty damn inept.

So how do Bonobos do it better? What makes their approach to sex so much more refined? What can we learn from it? Well, Psychology Today put together a quick list of sexy lessons from our evolutionary cousins and, given our inability to make up our goddamn minds about sex, we’d be wise to listen.

Psychology Today: 7 Things Bonobos Can Teach Us About Love And Sex

Lesson One: More sex equals less conflict

This makes too much sense to ignore. We already have prime examples of how societies of sexually deprived men can cause a lot of problems. Sex, like hunger and survival, is a very basic drive. In the same way we do crazy shit when we’re hungry, we do crazy shit when we’re horny and have no outlet. We feel conflicted. We feel frustrated. We pick fights, start conflicts, and forget why the hell we’re so angry in the first place. When you’re getting laid often, you’re too content for conflict. Bonobos are proof of that.

Lesson Two: Feminism can be very sexy

I know I just pissed off the Men’s Rights activities, which isn’t hard to begin with, but bear with me here. The feminism Bonobos practice isn’t the same feminism that’s designed to bust men’s balls and create bullshit trigger warnings. In Bonobo society, females are in charge. Males aren’t their bitches, but they don’t get to run the show just because they have nuts to flex. They need to respect the other gender and in doing so, they get laid more. In other words, it’s the kind of feminism that’s a win-win for both genders. What a concept, right?

Lesson Three: Sisterhood is powerful

I don’t think this is a lesson that needs to be belabored too much. Anyone who has seen women at a bachelor party or in quality lesbian porn know that women know how to form close bonds. They’re much better at it then men, who will cut each other’s throats over arguments about which Star Wars prequel sucked most. Creating bonds is an important component for any social species and we humans love to complicate it. Bonobos go out of their way not to. We have no excuses.

Lesson Four: Jealousy ISN’T romantic

I’ve already talked about this before. Jealousy implies you actually own the love and lust of another individual. That doesn’t sit well with me and I don’t think it should sit well with anyone on some levels. Bonobos seem to be several steps ahead in that regard. They don’t seem to care about their partners humping others. This actually creates less conflict. While I’m sure their version of Jerry Springer is much more boring, they’re probably okay with that.

Lesson Five: There’s promise in promiscuity

I’ve written about this as well. Despite what the James Dobsons and Rick Santorums of the world would have you believe, there are clear benefits to sexual promiscuity. The lack of conflict, close bonds, and low stress of Bonobo life is proof that those benefits can be considerable. Granted, they don’t have to worry about revenge porn, Maury Povich, and taboos on adultery, but they make the most of what their sexuality has to offer. They enjoy its pleasures and its utility. Again, that shouldn’t be such a novel concept, but we humans just can’t resist complicating these basic things.

Lesson Six: Good sex doesn’t always include an orgasm and casual doesn’t necessarily mean empty or cheap

I’m starting to think my brain is part Bonobo because I’ve written about this too with my strong opinions on foreplay. Sex isn’t just about taking a trip to O-town or making new soldiers/farmers to keep society going. It’s an important bonding mechanism. It fosters closeness and companionship, two extremely vital things for social species like humans and Bonobos. Humans create societies where huggers like me are terrified of making intimate contact with one another. Bonobos create societies where sex is their version of a handshake. Is it any wonder why there’s so little conflict?

Lesson Seven: Sex and food go together better than love and marriage

No, this isn’t about some kinky food fetish. I’ll save that discussion for a future book. Outside certain types of specialized porn, humans treat food and sex as distinctly separate. Bonobos like to blur the lines. When they come upon a large source of food, they’ll celebrate with a quick orgy to work up an appetite. I’m not sure what the logic is behind this. I don’t know that they think, “Look at all the delicious food! Let’s celebrate by having sex!” However, it’s one of those twisted brands of logic that just makes too much sense.

Despite the many benefits of Bonobo society, humans still like to think of themselves as more advanced. In many ways, they are. We have skyscrapers, nuclear weapons, and spray cheese in a can. Bonobos have none of that and it doesn’t help that they’re an endangered species. However, the unique quirks of their society and the way they’re able to function should give us something to think about.

We humans love to complicate sexuality, creating all of these bizarre and irrational taboos that we refuse to give up, even when they become outdated. We can advance so much as a civilization, but as a species, we’re still painfully slow learners. So why not take a few notes from our evolutionary ancestors? It might help us enjoy our success a little more. If nothing else, it’ll give erotica/romance writers like me plenty of kinky ideas to work with. For that, I thank you, Bonobos.

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Virtual Reality: The Future/End of Intimacy?

There was a time when the idea of having a hand-held device that allowed you to communicate directly with others, translate multiple languages, and access a near-limitless database of free porn seemed absurd. In fact, it seemed so futuristic that these fanciful devices often showed up in sci-fi shows like Star Trek. How many people who watched that show really thought that such a device was even possible?

That time really wasn’t that long ago. I’m still old enough to remember pagers and flip phones. That alone makes me feel way older than I want to, but it illustrates an important point. What seems like crazy science fiction today can become a reality in the future. It can even happen within our lifetime.

There are people who grew up watching Star Trek who now have smartphones. I can only imagine how amazed they must feel whenever they send an email, translate a conversation, or watch free porn. It’s an amazing and beautiful thing, right?

There’s another futuristic, seemingly impossible gadget that, for the moment, is still relegated to the world of Star Trek. It’s a gadget that also relates to my ongoing discussion about hugs and the importance of human contact.

It’s a gadget that has the potential to disrupt society in ways that pales in comparison to smartphones. In fact, it could be so disruptive that some speculate that it could be mankind’s last invention. Which invention could be this disruptive? Ladies, gentlemen, and those of unspecified gender, I give you the holodeck.

Without getting into the sci-fi jargon that will probably get me beat up by angry Trekkies and physicists, I’ll stick to the basics here. A holodeck is basically the ultimate extreme in virtual reality. It creates simulations so life-like that they’re indistinguishable from reality. If our feeble brains, which are still working under the assumption that we’re cavemen living on the African savanna, interprets it as reality, how can we possibly tell the difference?

Our brains are already easily fooled. It’s not just funny brain teasers that make us question our own internal wiring. As I’ve pointed out on this blog many times before, our brains aren’t wired to make sense of reality. They’re wired to help us survive and reproduce. That’s part of why we have such wonderful evolutionary manifestations like orgasms. In that context, it stands no chance against a holodeck.

It may seem like such an advancement is a long ways off, but I imagine early Stark Trek fans thought the same about smartphones. This invention is already in its nascent stage. At the moment, we call it virtual reality and it’s just starting to develop a consumer base.

Thanks to continued advances in computing power and a growing market for more immersive experiences, VR is becoming more mainstream and affordable by the average consumer. Like personal computers and smartphones before it, VR is creating a new market for new experiences. Those experiences, by the way, will probably involve virtual porn.

New markets mean new profits. History shows time and again if there’s a profit to be made, it’s going to happen. It’s the reason the War on Drugs is doomed to fail. It’s the reason the wars on porn, smoking, and everything fun that religion and government despises is doomed to fail. It’s also the reason why VR will become more and more indistinguishable from reality as time goes on. The recent success of Pokémon Go is proof enough of that.

So that begs the question: what happens to us when we reach the point where we have a functioning holodeck? What does that mean for the human race? What will it mean for our basic desires for intimacy?

Well, let’s all channel our inner horny teenager for a moment and state the obvious. Just as we saw with VHS and home video technology, VR and holodecks will likely be used for porn. This isn’t speculation. This is a certainty. Someone is working on this right now as we speak. You can count on it.

Do a quick thought experiment and picture how you’d use a holodeck. If I’m really horny, I could create an entire army of beautiful women that look like a mix of Kate Upton, Halle Berry, Scarlett Johanson, and even Starfire from DC Comics if I want. In case you’ve forgotten, Starfire looks like this.

See where I’m going with this? On top of that, with the right programming, I can make these simulations do whatever perverse shit I can think of. If I want them to cover their bodies in oil, pour chocolate on my dick, and take turns licking it up, I can do that.

I’m sure that’s not the kinkiest thing I could do. I’m sure there are others out there with far kinkier proclivities. A woman using such a device could create a football team of Channing Tatums and Brad Pitts, each programmed to cover her body in honey and lick it off.

I’ll stop speculating right now because I think I’m revealing too much about my own perverse fantasies. Also, they’re making me very hungry. Maybe writing this on an empty stomach was a bad idea, but it’s too late now.

It doesn’t matter how perverse your tastes are. They can even be outright illegal. So what if someone uses a holodeck to have sex with a baby elephant? It’s a simulation. It’s technically not hurting anyone or anything real. Even so, the mere fact that someone will probably use a holodeck to do something like this is kind of a mood-killer.

Again, our brains aren’t wired to be rational and make sense of reality. It’s wired for survival and reproduction. So if a holodeck simulation is that realistic, our brains literally aren’t equipped to tell the difference.

Imagine the kind of confusion this would cause. Hell, this would be 10 steps beyond confusion. This is a dissociation with reality on par with The Matrix. When a simulation becomes that real and malleable, would we even want to escape? It’s either face a cold, harsh reality or spend more time wrestling naked with Starfire and Halle Berry. That’s not a balanced decision, to say the least.

Whether you’re an anti-social sociopath or a hugger like me, a holodeck can literally give you everything you need to fulfill all the physical and emotional needs you want. I can go from having a three-way with a couple of supermodels to hugging every member of my family, even those who have passed away, on a whim. The caveman wiring of my brain will tell me I’m doing exactly what I need to survive and reproduce. Why would it want me to stop?

The cynical side of me says that I’ll join the billions of other humans on this planet who will go extinct with a big, content smile on my face. However, the less jaded side of me, which also happens to be the side that helps me craft sexy romance stories, thinks there are other possibilities.

If history is any guide, and it often is, human beings can and do adapted to these major disruptions. The 20th century gave us a number of examples, but one in particular stands out. It involves the impact of contraception and, to a similar extent, antibiotics.

It’s easy to forget in a era where contraception is so ordinary that only right-wing religious nut-jobs like Rick Santorum speak against it. Women today have all sorts of methods for controlling their fertility, deciding when and in what circumstances they’ll bear children.

This is a huge shift compared to the bulk of human history where contraception was limited to pulling out, make-shift condoms, and the medical treatments on par with smearing chicken entrails on tumors. Then, after centuries of uncertainty and superstition, we created something that worked. It worked so well that it disrupted a great many these assumptions we once had about society.

Think, for a moment, how jarring that must have been. Suddenly, women don’t have to lament whether or not they’ll get pregnant after one night of reckless indulgence. Suddenly, society has some measure of control over a basic human function. It was exciting and scary. Hell, the Catholic Church is still scared to death of contraception, which is saying a lot from the folks that gave us 2,000 years of hellfire and brimstone.

Despite what religious institutions and bad reality TV shows would prefer, contraception is not going away. It impacted society immensely, but you know what? Society adapted. The human race hasn’t gone extinct. Civilization hasn’t collapsed. The fact that people can now hump without as many consequences as before didn’t destroy humanity. It just freed us up to focus on other things.

By and large, this shift has been positive. As society has adapted, violence throughout the industrialized world has declined sharply. Opportunities for women have risen as well and not just because they can have sex with fewer consequences. This disruption that upended centuries of limits did so much good. So how much good can advancements in VR and holodecks achieve?

It’s impossible to say, but it’s a question worth asking. What do people do when they have a means of meeting their physical, emotional, and sexual needs with relative ease? We’ve never lived in a society like that before. Remember, though, until recently, we had never lived in a society where women had control over their fertility. We had no idea what to expect, but we adapted. We improved as a civilization and there’s still room for improvement.

I don’t want to be too much of an optimist. With every advancement comes challenges and pitfalls we can’t possibly foresee. At some point, somebody will use VR or holodecks to do something that’ll make us throw up. However, like those who use ski-masks poorly, we must take the good with the bad.

In the end, I believe the good will outweigh the bad. I think when human society has a means of meeting all their physical, emotional, and sexual needs, the sheer breadth of human potential will be realized.

What form might this potential make? How would such a society function? How would it adapt? These are all important questions to ask, but they’re impossible to answer right now. That said, they could make for an interesting premise of a book. Think about it, a story involving a holodeck told by an erotica/romance writer who writes stories about strippers and sex cults? That could be interesting, among other things.

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Solitary Confinement: The Ultimate Torture?

To those of you out there who think you’re having a bad day, this may lift your spirits in all the wrong ways. To those of you who consider themselves huggers who are fond of intimate contact, as I most certainly do, this will be an exploration of your worst nightmare.

I’ve argued before that our current culture makes it painfully difficult for human beings to be intimate with one another. We have technology that puts screens between us, cultural taboos that prevent us from seeking each other out, and religious dogma that will make up elaborate myths to keep people from seeking satisfying intimacy. As bad as it is, it could still be much worse.

Enter the practice of solitary confinement. For those who consider themselves huggers, this is right up there with waterboarding and power tools in terms of torture. It’s one thing to inflict pain on someone. As anyone who has experimented with BDSM knows, the right kinds of pain can actually be enjoyable. With solitary confinement, however, that potential isn’t there. If anything, it does everything possible to nullify that potential.

According to the ever-reliable sources on Wikipedia, solitary confinement is defined as:

A form of imprisonment in which an inmate is isolated from any human contact.

On the surface, it doesn’t sound nearly as bad as being shanked to death or having fingernails ripped out. However, as is often the case with the worst forms of torture, it’s not the wound that kills you. It’s the festering scar that gets infected and kills you slowly that makes it really nasty.

Solitary confinement is the absolute antithesis of what it means to be a social creature. This is very important to consider because human beings are very social animals. Our brains are hard-wired to seek contact and coordination with others. From the time we’re infants to the time we’re senile old geezers, we naturally seek to be around one another.

First, it’s our parents and siblings. Then, it’s our friend and fellow neighbors. Then, it’s our lovers, our children, and our extended family. At every stage in our biological and social development, intimate and casual contact with other human beings is vital.

Using my favorite tool, caveman logic, this makes perfect sense. Unless we’re Arnold Schwarzenegger on meth, we have no chance of taking down a sabretooth tiger. If we work with other humans, creating tools and forming strategies, then we can do more than just hunt down animals. We can actually hunt them so well that we drive them to extinction.

Being effective social creatures is pretty damn important from an evolutionary standpoint. That’s why simple gestures like hugs have so many physical and mental benefits. It’s also way, according to Health.com, people who socialize more tend to live longer. It’s pretty much beyond dispute. Social interaction is good for us on some basic level.

The practice of solitary confinement kicks that concept in the balls and lights it on fire. It takes people, including those who may not be mentally healthy to begin with, and sticks them in a situation that drives a knife into the core of their psyche. It’s like trying to put out a fire with gasoline. It’s death by a billion paper-cuts. It’s bad is what I’m saying.

Now in the interest of balance, let me acknowledge that there is an element of cold pragmatism to solitary confinement. There are indeed individuals in this world whose brain function is so damaged, so dangerous, and so deranged that putting them around other people is a problem. As bad as solitary confinement is, there are times when it’s the best of the worst possible options.

The primary use of solitary confinement is to isolate these deranged individuals from others. In the past, it was even seen as a more human alternative to flogging and hanging. That may have been true for a certain period in history, but we’re not in that time period anymore and the non-Taliban crowd of the world doesn’t wish to go back.

As a society, I feel we should treat progress the same way I treat my aspiring writing career. We should always strive for improvement. Let’s not let ourselves stagnate or get complacent. There are just some things that are worth improving and this is one of them. We stopped hanging people. We stopped flogging them. We stopped using duels to settle legal disputes. Why can’t we do the same with solitary confinement?

There are organizations out there who classify solitary confinement as torture. The ACLU is one of them and their position on the practice is pretty clear.

With no evidence-based research of its effectiveness, solitary confinement is a form of imprisonment that has been overused and abused. According to the experts, the massive expansion of solitary confinement in America is a failed experiment of the late 20th century.

In recent years, a concerted effort has emerged to combat this practice and seek alternatives. According to the National Religious Campaign Against Torture, multiple states have passed legislation to curtail or regulate the practice. More legislation may follow and as a self-professed hugger, it can’t come soon enough.

Now there will be opponents who argue that not everyone suffers the same horrific effects of solitary confinement. There is even some research to back this claim. Even if this research is valid, this doesn’t justify the practice. Just because some people can handle being tortured and go onto live normal lives doesn’t mean it should be permitted. Not everyone is James Bond or Jack Bauer.

Whatever future research may or may not conclude, we don’t need to wait for the test results on certain aspects of human nature. We’re social animals. We hug, we interact, and we make love. It’s part of what makes us the most successful species on this planet. Solitary confinement is a kick in the balls to that success and I say our balls need not be subjected to such punishment.

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Another Manuscript Complete!

Just a quick announcing today and then I promise, I’ll get back to talking about fun, fuzzy topics like hugs and orgasms. I have an announcement to make and one that always puts a smile on my face. I, Jack Fisher, finished another manuscript. That’s right! Another elaborate tale from my creative (and at times perverse) mind is complete and it feels so good.

I love this part of the creative process. I like to think of it as the writing equivalent of afterglow. You did all the foreplay. You worked through each position. You achieved what you wanted. It may or may not have gotten a bit messy and uncomfortable at times. You still did it though. You finished the job and it’s a damn good feeling.

It’s a great feeling. It kind of reminds me of some other great feeling that involves physical exertion, intense focus, a touch of creativity, and intense satisfaction that makes you want to light up a cigarette and smile. I’m not sure which feeling it is right now, but I’m guessing most of you can figure it out for yourselves.

This story, which is still untitled, ended up being longer and more elaborate than I planned. I announced it months ago as a sci-fi thriller mixed with a little romance and erotica. I originally intended it to be short, focused, and concise. As is often the case, those intentions got thrown away faster than a used condom once I got into the dirty details of the story.

Overall, the final word count ended up being over 73,000 words. Without any revisions, that would make it the second longest book I’ve written after “Skin Deep.” Make no mistake though. There will be revisions. That’s a big part of the writing process. Anyone who writes a story with more plot than “Go Dog Go” knows this.

Revisions can be tedious and cumbersome. Like most pranks involving alcohol and fireworks, there are some concepts in a story that seem like good ideas at the time. Then, you read them over with a fresh set of eyes and question how sober you were when you came up with that idea.

I’ve certainly done my share of revising. Every book I’ve written has been subject to extensive revisions. I think “The Escort and the Gigolo” ended up being several thousand words shorter after I got done with it. When you’re trying to add polish to a story, especially one that emphasizes erotic and romantic elements, you want it to shine.

This book will be no different. It’s one of those projects that I’ll probably keep on the back-burner for a while until I can get a publisher or an editor to help me finalize it. That’s something I’m still working on with my other manuscripts. At the moment, it’s the biggest obstacle that stands between me and becoming a marginally successful writer.

I’m still wondering if I should pay for “Writers Market” services to find myself a publisher. I’m also still waiting to hear back from publishers like Crimson Frost on my previous submissions. Waiting sucks, but good things are worth waiting for. I hope this is one of them.

So now I have yet another completed project in my portfolio. In my line of work, you can never have too much. That also means I’m just about ready to start my next project, which I’ve already discussed in a previous post. I hope to start that soon once the afterglow wears off.

As always, I’m interested in what others have to say about my ambitions. I’m not a success yet. I’m an aspiring writer, not a successful one. That means I don’t have the luxury of turning away advice, criticism, and general comments. I know this blog gets about as much traffic as store that sells only used gum, but I’m willing to put in the work to make this endeavor a success. Another completed manuscript is just another part of the process.

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