Tag Archives: human sexuality

The Stigma Of Being Single (Especially If You’re A Man)

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Picture, for a moment, a single woman in her mid-30s with no kids. What’s the image that comes to mind? For most people, especially those who watch sitcoms or have seen one episode of “Sex In The City,” a certain narrative plays out that helps shape that picture.

The woman is probably not a supermodel, nor could she be mistaken for Sarah Jessica Parker. She probably has a stable career. She probably has her own money, a tight social circle, and a fair amount of independence. She likely has a few hobbies and passions outside her career. Even if she isn’t in a relationship, it’s easy to imagine her being happy with her situation.

The fact that she’s single wouldn’t raise many red flags. That said, there are some stigmas associated with being single at a certain age for women. There’s still this misguided notion that women who are single at that age have somehow come up short in life. Every woman has different reasons for being single. By and large, though, we tend to have sympathy for women who stay single.

Now, picture a single man in his mid-30s with no kids. What image comes to mind in that instance? Chances are it’s not the same as that picture you imagined of a single woman. A single man in his mid-30s probably won’t inspire mental pictures of Channing Tatum. Hell, it probably won’t even inspire pictures of Jonah Hill.

A single man in his mid-30s with no kids will likely raise more red flags than the woman. It’s not just that the man is struggling to forge a meaningful relationship. He’s not just unlucky in love. There’s something wrong with him. A man like that must be a creep to some extent. He must have some sort of shortcoming or deficiency that repulses the opposite sex.

Maybe he has unhealthy hobbies.

Maybe he has a short temper and abusive tendencies.

Maybe he’s just a lazy slob who doesn’t even try.

It’s still entirely possible that a single man in his 30s is just content being single. He doesn’t feel inclined to pursue a relationship at the moment. He’s healthy, relatively attractive, and contributes positively to society. He’s not opposed to being in a relationship, but not just for the sake of being with someone.

No matter how common that possibility is, though, that’s probably not the first assumption you would make if all you knew about a man was that he’s over 30 and single. Even though marriage rates are declining, there’s still a stigma associated with being single beyond a certain age. It exists for women and men, but the stigma is more pronounced for men.

There’s no getting around it. A single man in his mid-30s is going to evoke a different reaction. It’s not a double standard like some of the others I’ve cited. It’s just the byproduct of different expectations and assumptions. I know this better than most because I’m a single man in my mid-30s with no kids and I’ve witnessed some of these reactions.

It’s subtle, but noticeable. When I tell someone I’m single and in my 30s, I get this weird look. If the person doesn’t know me very well, I get the sense they’re a little concerned. Once they learn that about me, I suspect they think that’s creepy or odd. There have been times when I’ve seen people, mostly women, get uncomfortable when they learn I’m over 30 and single.

There was even one instance where a woman at a store asked if I was gay. That really caught me off-guard, but it was the first time when I really felt the stigma of being single. I laughed it off at the time and so did the woman. However, when I later recalled the incident, I felt genuinely anxious about my status. I worry that it will undermine my ability to find love in the future.

I’ve even seen it among relatives. While most of my family don’t make a big deal out of it, there are a few who express concern about me. They see my age and my relationship status as a problem to be solved. I can understand that sentiment. I even appreciate it because I know it comes from sincere concern. Even so, I still feel the stigma on some levels.

I know I’m not alone in that. As much progress as we’ve made in society, with respect to tolerating non-traditional relationships, there’s still this over-arching sentiment that being single is a deficiency. It’s not so much a choice as it is an excuse. When it’s less subtle, it can be downright demeaning. It takes many forms, but often carries similar themes.

Your standards are too high.

You’re not a desirable companion.

You’re too high-maintenance and clingy.

You’re past your prime.

You’ve got little to offer.

I’ve seen this levied at women and men. I know women who get very combative when someone tries to figure out why they’re not in a relationship after a certain age. I honestly don’t blame them, but I’ve seen those same women get plenty of sympathy. Even when they make excuses, men and women alike will offer them support when they need it.

As a man, though, I feel like I can’t get away with that. If I were as apprehensive as some of the women I’ve known, I wouldn’t get a lick of sympathy. If anything, I would be scorned. Men would look down at me as desperate and whiny. Woman would look down on me as pathetic and weak. None of those traits warrant much sympathy or support.

On some levels, I  understand why being single is stigmatized. For society to grow, it needs people to get together, forge close society bonds, and creature stable families. People who remain single aren’t contributing to that growth and stigma is just one way of incentivizing them to try harder, even if it creates distressing taboos.

I can also understand why the stigma is more pronounced in men. Like it or not, men tend to commit more crime. Men who lack the influence of a stabilizing relationship tend to cause more deviance and there’s even some research to back that up. It’s one of those instances where a particular prejudice has some statistics behind it.

However, statistics rarely tell the entire story. More often than not, they leave out critical details. In my case, the primary factor that has influenced my single status is a desire not to be with someone just for the sake of being with someone. I’ve seen more than one person fall into the trap of being with someone who is totally wrong for them, but stays with them to avoid being single.

I don’t want that for myself. I want any relationship I have, be it romantic or platonic, to be for the right reasons. Being single hasn’t made me feel more inclined to commit crime or do something deviant. It’s a reasonable choice that I made for myself and I don’t regret it. That doesn’t make it any less frustrating when other people make misguided assumptions about why I’m single.

I’ve met women who’ve made similar choices. I’ve also known plenty more who are single for different, but understandable reasons. They’re not selfish predators who are just holding out to marry a prince who will love them, cater to their every need, and be their personal pocketbook. There are women like that, but they’re the annoyingly loud exception and not the norm.

When it comes to being single, the lingering stigma feels like a very small battle in a much larger war involving gender, society, and politics. As a self-professed romantic, I’m all for encouraging people to find love and forge relationship. It’s a beautiful thing and I feel like that same stigma undermines the beauty.

On top of that, it shoves yet another wedge between men and women when we already have too many of those. We’ve steadily moved away from the notion that an unmarried woman at a certain age must either be a widow, a prostitute, or a nun. There’s still room for improvement, but we’re steadily making progress in empowering people to find their way, regardless of whether they’re single.

At the same time, a man remaining single is not prone to as much scrutiny as we’ve seen in in the past. There are still assumptions and anxieties that are uniquely associated with single men. Regardless of whether single men or single women have it worse, I feel as though one part of the stigma is being addressed while the other is being overlooked.

Like it or not, this is going to be an increasingly relevant issue. As women stay single for longer, there are going to be more single men. That’s just basic math. The desire to find someone special won’t go away anytime soon. The stigma is just making it more difficult and a lot less romantic.

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A Personal Story About Puberty, Thongs, And High School

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It has been a while since I shared some personal insights. In my defense, this past year has been rough. Back in the summer, two very close family members of mine passed away. It has not been easy getting personal under those circumstances. I’d like to change that and in a way that isn’t entirely depressing.

With that in mind, I’d like to tell a story about puberty. I’ll give everyone a moment to stop laughing and/or cringing. Take all the time you need. If you’re like John Oliver, you may need more time than most.

I feel like it’s worth bringing up because, for better or for worse, how we go through puberty plays a big part in how we grow into adults. I can’t claim with a straight face that I handled puberty as well as I could’ve. If I were to grade myself, I would probably get a C-minus, at best. This story that I’m about to share should help explain why.

To understand why this moment in my life sticks out, there’s a particular context I need to establish, especially for my female audience. When it comes to changing from a child to an adult, there’s no one moment that marks the transition. One single strand of pubic hair doesn’t make you a man any more than one juice box makes you a kid.

More often than not, at least for men, there are a series of moments that effectively signal that you are not a kid anymore. You’re not an adult, either. You’re a teenager, steadily transforming into an adult body and doing your best to handle all these weird and overwhelming changes.

I can’t speak to the female experience, but I can say that as a male, those moments can be pretty powerful. They’re like way-points on the journey to adulthood. This story marks one of those way-points. It involves one of my least favorite classes in high school and cute girls wearing revealing thongs.

I’m being dead serious, here. Again, take all the time you need to stop laughing and/or cringing.

The setting was innocent enough. It’s my freshman year of high school. I’m an awkward 15-year-old with a terrible acne problem, an underwhelming stature, and low self-confidence. I’m also at an age where I’m really starting to feel my hormones and not just in terms of awkward boners. While I’d always enjoyed the company of girls, my teenage brain was starting to complicate those feelings.

I could manage that, for the most part. Then, I walk in my Introduction to Spanish class. Now, I’m already dreading this class because, at the time, I sucked at memorizing things not associated with comic books or NFL stats. It didn’t help that my teacher was awful so I was rarely in a good mood when I walked in.

That mood changed, somewhat, when my teacher gave us assigned seating in a new classroom. As it just so happened, I ended up sitting right behind a beautiful young woman with brown hair, tan skin, and nails she always painted purple. Why do I remember that while I forgot pretty much everything else in that class? That’s where thongs enter the story.

This girl, in addition to being beautiful and sweet, loved to wear thong underwear. I knew because from where I was sitting, I could see it clearly. It didn’t matter what kind of pants she wore or what the weather was like. Whenever she leaned forward on her desk, I got a perfect view of the top part of her thong.

I don’t know if it was intentional. This girl was not shy about her body, but not in a trashy sort of way. She was very sweet and kind to everyone, regardless of what she wore. She was that way with me, even though I had lousy social skills and bad acne. Whatever her reason, she didn’t seem to care that her thong showed every time she leaned forward. I never pointed it out to her and neither did anyone else.

I freely admit that I was very distracted by this, but not in a way I minded. If it weren’t a beautiful girl wearing a thong, it would’ve been something else. That’s how disinterested I was in this class. It led to more than a few awkward boners, but I’d been getting those for years. I’d never gotten them in a way that felt like a direct response to someone else’s presence.

It wasn’t just a sign that my body was changing. It signaled that my mind was changing too. How I felt and how I thought about girls was different than before. It was never going to be the same again and I feel like it started with that one thong-loving girl.

I acknowledge that there will be some people out there who think less of me for gawking at the sight of a young woman’s underwear, especially while at school. I’m won’t make excuse and I won’t apologize for it, either.

I was a 15-year-old boy going through puberty. I hadn’t yet mastered the art of hiding porn in my bedroom and the concept of sexy underwear on beautiful women was just starting to appeal to me. It’s for that very reason, however perverse some may find it, that this memory is so vivid for me.

It was at this moment, sitting in Spanish class and covertly admiring the cute girl’s thong, that I realized I was not a kid anymore. I was becoming an adult. That was a critical revelation for me because, up until that point, I still thought of myself as a kid. Even at 15, I hadn’t quite shed that part of my identity. This experience changed that.

I couldn’t keep clinging to childhood. Moreover, I didn’t want to anymore. I felt like an adult. I wanted to grow up. I know that sounds like a lot of revelation from just seeing a cute girl’s thong, but make no mistake. The impact was that profound. It remains a defining moment for my adolescence.

In addition to the thong, I also remember the girl’s name. For the sake of her privacy, I won’t share it. However, after I finished that class, I never had a class with her again. I didn’t see much of her for the rest of high school. I doubt I’ll ever see her again. Even if I don’t, her impact on my teenage life is etched in bedrock. For that, I thank her and her tastes in underwear.

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Why Extremists (Of All Kinds) Seek To Destroy Sex And Love

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Whenever a tyrannical power gains influence, it’s only a matter of time before it attempts to control sex and subvert love. Whether it’s a theocracy like “The Handmaid’s Tale” or a communist dictatorship like North Korea, those in power will eventually get to it. It’s just a matter of how repressive they dare to be.

When it comes to the extremes of authoritarianism, those envisioned by George Orwell are the standards by which all are measured. Whether they’re fictional tyrannies like those in “Star Wars” or real-life autocracies like Nazi Germany, the extent of their repression is best measured by contrasting it with the one Orwell crafted in “1984.”

This isn’t the first time I’ve cited that book or Orwell’s writing, but I do so for a reason and it’s not just because it’s one of my favorite novels. The narrative Orwell envisioned took our understanding of repression and pushed it to its greatest extremes. On every level, the world of “1984” is a worst-case-scenario for anyone who values freedom.

Under the ruling party, Ingsoc, every aspect of human life is controlled, managed, or outright subverted. That includes sex, but it’s certainly not limited to it. Through institutions like the ironically-named Ministry of Love and the Junior Anti-Sex League, people aren’t just shamed or bullied into certain sexual practices. They’re tortured, brainwashed, and forced into it.

It’s a level of control that the Catholic Church, the religious right, and even conservative Muslims would find excessive. It’s also an important part of the story because so much of the events surrounding “1984” emerge from Winston’s relationship with Julia. In fact, the love they share is framed one of the biggest threats to the party.

That, in and of itself, is extremely telling of the power of sex and the love that emerges from it. Even in a world in which the repression is so complete that the party can convince people that two plus two equals five, it still has a problem dealing with sex. If Big Brother can’t manage it, then what hope does the Vatican have?

I ask that question within the context of “1984” because I’m seeing more and more issues inevitably link back to sexuality. It’s not just from religious institutions, though. They’ve made their eagerness to shape sexuality to serve their interests known for centuries. They aren’t always overt about it, but it’s not too hard to understand why they want their adherents having sex only for procreation.

For them, linking sex to making babies means all those sexual thoughts people have will result in more adherents. More adherents means more money. More money means more power and influence. It’s often cloaked in sin and morality, but this is the ultimate byproduct of their sexual morals.

However, it’s at the other end of the spectrum where a different, but powerful kind of sexual subversion is at work. The link isn’t quite as obvious as those espoused by religious institutions, but it is there in that the byproduct is the same and the underlying themes are richly reflected in “1984.”

On that end of the spectrum are those who identify as secular, but still hold extreme ideologies. This includes extreme brands of feminism, social justice ideology, and even old school communism. These are people who don’t just want to reform the current system through political and social discourse. They seek to overthrow the system and replace it with their own Utopian ideal.

Like the religious zealots they often clash with, they see the current order as oppressive. Whether it’s a religious sect facing persecution or the historical oppression against anyone who isn’t part of a historic majority, these individuals see revolution as the only way to right these wrongs. Part of that revolution involves destroying sex, albeit indirectly.

Whereas religious zealots rely on outright censorship, those on the opposite end employ a more subtle approach. They denigrate and bemoan sexual imagery, be it in video game characters or a shirt somebody happens to be wearing. They obsess over inequities and victimization, singling out egregious crimes while ignoring others that don’t fit the narrative.

Some will go so far as to claim sex as inherently oppressive. A few radical feminists have gone so far as to say that the fundamentals of sex can only ever be oppressive. In the same way some religious preachers will shame someone for looking at anyone with lust, this ideology identifies anyone who has or pursues sex as an oppressor.

That might have been absurd several decades ago, but in the current state of outrage culture where the dress Jennifer Lawrence wears to a movie premier becomes a controversy, it’s steadily creeping into the discourse. Concepts like beauty are now oppressive to those not born with beautiful bodies. Anything that may titillate or excite is seen as dangerous or damaging to the oppressed.

It’s at a point where the idea of people seeking any kind of release outside the narrative espoused by extremists is pathologized. For religious zealots, it’s sinful. For the non-religious extremists, it’s oppressive. Both see it as something that needs to be reformed or envisioned.

Chances are these individuals don’t see themselves as the authoritarians depicted in “1984.” They still see themselves as the underdogs in a “Rocky” movie, fighting to win an epic battle against an oppressive bully. Beyond being an absurd conflation of what they’re fighting for, this very approach is envisioned by Orwell and is key to empowering Ingsoc.

In the world of “1984,” the Ministry of Truth builds a similar narrative for the masses. They’re told that prior to Ingsoc taking power, the world was a terrible, oppressive place. It was only by rallying around the party and Big Brother that they were able to triumph. Moreover, it’s through the wisdom and guidance of the party that they escape this oppression.

Part of that process involves reshaping/subverting sex. In “1984,” the party isn’t just looking to control it. They seek to destroy it. The Junior Anti-Sex League even says it outright at one point.

“The sex inherent aptitude will be eradicated. Reproduction will be a one-year formality like the reclamation of a ration card. We shall get rid of the orgasm.”

Even by extreme repression standards, this seems extreme. It might even seem like something that would give zealots of all types pause. However, Orwell’s way of justifying such extremes reveal more than just a twisted ideology. He ends up exposing why sex is such a huge concern for any extreme ideology.

“When you make love you’re using up energy; and afterwards you feel happy and don’t give a damn for anything. They can’t bear you to feel like that. They want you to be bursting with energy all the time. All this marching up and down and cheering and waving flags is simply sex gone sour. If you’re happy inside yourself, why should you get excited about Big Brother?”

Read over that quote again, but replace Big Brother with the name of any religious sect or political ideology. It has the same meaning and the same implications. In order for both the zealots and the radicals to achieve their goal, they have to destroy sex. It’s the only way they can achieve their Utopian ideal.

Religious zealots can’t shame or guilt people entirely out of wanting to enjoy sex for non-procreative purposes. They can certainly make it difficult and painful for many, even to the point of serious abuse, but it never works in the long run. The drive to just want to hump for fun is too strong.

Certain brands of radical feminism have a similar issue. They can’t stop straight men from enjoying the sight of a beautiful woman. They can’t stop anyone from wanting to enjoy something different in their sex lives that they don’t like. No matter how much they’re triggered, it doesn’t turn off that powerful, instinctual drive.

In “1984,” the party actively works towards destroying that drive through technology. This is a lot scarier now because that kind of technology is already in the works. In theory, an extremely repressive religious zealot or a very regressive feminist could turn the implants in development at Neuralink into something that removes all pleasure from sex.

From there, they could redirect that energy into serving their ideology/religion. The procreative function could still be utilized, but only to the extent that it’s necessary. That may not be the ultimate goal. It’s not even the ultimate goal of Ingsoc. It’s just necessary in the grand scheme of pursuing and securing power.

As it stands, those in the religious right and other extremist circles aren’t remotely close to gaining the influence and control exercised by Big Brother in “1984.” Logistically speaking, it’s impossible for them because subverting human nature requires an understanding of it and the scientific process for achieving that understanding rarely adheres to ideology.

It still says something about their goals when the only way to achieve them in the long run requires that they destroy sex. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Orwell built a major part of “1984” around two characters falling in love and experiencing the joys of the sex act. That proved to be one of most powerful ways for them to oppose the party.

To that extent, Orwell’s understanding of sexuality is nothing short of prophetic in terms of how revolutionaries on both ends of the political spectrum view it. In an Orwellian world, sex and love aren’t just a hindrance to a revolution. They’re an outright threat.

The fact that it took repression on the level of Big Brother to confront that threat is a testament to the power of sex and love. If Big Brother couldn’t contain it, then what hope does any religion or ideology have?

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Daily Sexy Musings: Sharing A Hot Shower

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The following is a sexy musing on the joys and inherent sex appeal of a hot shower. More specifically, it’s about how that joy and sexiness gets enhanced when we have someone to share it with.

It’s not just a scene out of a bad porno. A hot shower shared with a lover is one of the most understated acts of intimacy. It’s not just one of those situations that’s likely to result in some impromptu lovemaking. There are larger forces at work, both of the loving kind and of the sexy kind. Enjoy!

We enter cold and dirty. We leave warm and clean.

We enter stressed and miserable. We leave relaxed and content.

A hot shower is like being reborn, cleansed and cleaned from rigors of daily life. It requires no skill to enjoy. It needs little in terms of resources. A steady source of water and heat are the only requirements. Nearly every society in every part of the world has the means and desire to enjoy it.

Beyond cleaning our bodies, it requires that we be intimate with ourselves. It demands that we know our bodies, touching and feeling every little sinew. We know the parts that need extra care. We try to be extra careful, trusting our hands and the will that guides them to all the right places.

Alone, however, a hot shower can only do so much. Like a hot cup of coffee on a cold winter morning, it’s a simple act that gets the job done. It’s only when you share that warm, rejuvenating experience that it becomes something more. Instead of one cup, there’s a whole feast of deserts we eagerly consume.

Together, we shed our clothes and our inhibitions.

Together, we enter a hot, steamy world.

Together, we cleanse one another of grime and stress.

Under torrents of hot water, we’re drawn to one another. We seek to share in its healing power. Our naked bodies are so close, able to touch without barrier or restraint. There are no forces keeping us apart and plenty of forces drawing us together. It’s a world where love and desire complement rather than conflict.

It starts off simple. We soak ourselves in water. We embrace, finally clean of the sweat incurred by a long day. Hands touch, lips meet, and body parts rub together in an intimate mesh. From simple contact, a greater desire blossoms. From that desire, passion ignites. In a steamy world, we are unbound. The heat cannot stop us. Instead, it only fuels us.

We can be as messy as we want. We can be as thorough as we want. Under steady stream of water, we exist in a perfect cycle of renewal and revitalization. We feel bolder, feeling each other up with more fervor and stirring in one another the most heated of passions.

It’s a perfect domain for a perfect venting, a harmonious blend of love and desire. Through the water and steam, our flesh longs for a more thorough cleaning. Our own hands may make us feel content. Only our lover’s hands can make us feel fulfilled.

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Daily Sexy Musings: Men In Uniform

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The following is a round of sexy musings inspired by men in uniform. Specifically, it was inspired by a story that a woman told me years ago about how she had the hottest, sexiest night of her life thanks to a police officer. I wish I could share the details of that story, but I prefer to save it for one of my sexy short stories.

It’s no secret that many women find a man in uniform to be sexy. Why else would it be such a popular theme at male strip clubs? Many say power is an aphrodisiac and there’s even some science to support that. Someone who wields authority can both dominate and protect us. On some levels, we’re going to feel some level of intimacy from it. Some of it will be sexual and that’s what this musing celebrates.

We’re all born naked, equally vulnerable and universally weak. We all grow, pursuing many paths and following many passions. For a select few, there’s a special path with numerous obstacles. The work, the rigor, and the sweat impart special skills, weeding out weakness and expanding strength.

Finally, at the end of that path, those elite souls are affirmed. Over their naked, weak bodies they put on a uniform. They display to the world that they defied the odds. They became more than what their flesh alone can convey. They became soldiers, officers, and influencers. It was not given. It was earned.

A man who earns is a man willing to fight.

A man willing to fight is a man who can protect.

A man who can protect is a man with power.

Under the veil of that power, we feel safe. At the same time, we feel afraid. We look up at them. They look down at us. They can dominate, control, and overwhelm us. That fear can be confusing. The line between being afraid and being aroused blurs. Only through the uniform can we see the man behind the power.

Men with such power have to be strong. Men with such power have to be responsible. From their attire, alone, they tell us what they can do for us. If we respect their authority, we contemplate what they can do to us. Any man can exercise power. Only a select few can exercise true authority.

Men with authority don’t subdue. They dominate.

Men that dominate don’t make promises. They just act.

Men that act don’t just protect. They deliver.

We need only submit to their authority. We need only see that uniform and respect the power it conveys. They’ve earned that power. They’ve worked, trained, and toiled. Underneath, there can be no weakness or sloth. There can only be muscle and sinew. From there comes their strength. From their strength, they take us.

We need not resist. We need not desire otherwise. When they shed that uniform, they reveal they’re still men. Even without it, when they stand exposed as any other, the power remains. The strength that earned them that uniform doesn’t wane. It cannot be contained. It can only be channeled.

In that uniform, they are symbols of authority. Out of that uniform, they are conduits of it and we are the spark. They don’t ask. They demand . We don’t just comply. We submit. From their power and our respect, we create the most intimate of harmony.

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Daily Sexy Musings: Love Versus Desire

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The following is a daily sexy musing inspired by the discrepancy between love and desire. Make no mistake. There is a difference. You can love someone, but not desire them. You can also desire someone without loving them, too.

It’s a subtle, but powerful difference. Those with first-hand experience know that all too well, albeit mostly through hindsight. Those without that experience have no idea, so I hope they read these intimate words carefully.

What does it mean to be loved? It’s the subject of countless songs and just as many epic tales. It’s a question with many answers, few of which remain the same from one soul to the other.

What does it mean to be desired? It has fewer songs and stories, but only because they’re not necessary. To be desired is to feel something basic, raw, and unfiltered. That’s exactly what makes it so different, yet so similar to love.

To love someone is to seek connection on multiple levels. To desire someone is to seek a connection with only a few. Love can connect people for eternity. Desire can connect people for minutes at a time. Love may be fickle, but desire is downright erratic. We can channel love, but we can never contain desire.

It’s that feeling you get when you see a pair of breasts, but not the face of the person above them.

It’s that feeling you get when you see the bulging chest muscles and not the eyes just a few inches above.

It’s the feeling you get when your brain and your genitals are no longer in sync. It isn’t just an obstacle. It’s a barrier, one that can be circumvented, but never avoided.

Desire can lead to love, but love rarely incurs desire. It can fuel desire, but only in the way that a spark ignites a gas-soaked rag. Absent the necessary ingredients, a spark can only do so much. It burns fast and disappears faster. In one domain, it barely flickers. In another, it triggers a raging wildfire. It can be so much and so little. Love is just one of many outcomes, but it is rarely the most likely.

We feel desire on a whim, but we feel love for a lifetime.

Desire puts us in a moment, but love will carry us through a lifetime.

They can be incredibly thrilling, but easily confused. One is a flash. The other is a steady gleam. Both can light up our world, but only one can illuminate a path. Desire helps us be in the moment. Love helps us see the path ahead of us.

Desire can only ever be fleeting, but love can be eternal. Desire runs on instinct. Love runs on passion. Wanting to be loved is like a journey. Wanting to be desired is like yelling at the clouds on a rainy day. We only have so much control over either, let alone both. We don’t always know which one we crave, but we know how much we want it.

The line is always blurred. We can feel one, the other, or both. Together or apart, they bring us exhilaration and fulfillment. Only hindsight reveals the truth, but it also brings perspective.

Desire can lead us to love, but it can also lead us away from it. Love can subvert desire, but it can never truly escape it. One defines us while the other guides us. We need one to get to the other. We need the other to appreciate the one.

Love and desire need not oppose one another, but they rarely complement one another. To follow desire is to seek love. To be in love means channeling desire. From a simple feeling to a life shared, we can only appreciate its power when we embrace both together.

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Daily Sexy Musings: Machine Learning And Foreplay

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The following is a sexy musing that involves artificial intelligence and machine learning, a topic I’ve covered many times before. It may not sound sexy at first, but trust me. There’s plenty of intimate potential if you dare to look. Enjoy!

As I write these words, brilliant people are teaching machines to learn and adapt on a level comparable to that of humans. The promise and potential of this technology cannot be overstated. The things it can do and the feats it’ll help us achieve are beyond imagination.

However, it’s how we’re teaching these machines that makes for some sexy connotations. At the heart of machine learning is the process of navigating complex problems, calculating potential solutions, and learning from mistakes to further refine the approach. Over time, the machine doesn’t just learn its task. It masters it.

Is it a coincidence that this is the same approach we use with foreplay? Think about it.

Two lovers confront one another with a defined task, namely to bring pleasure and express love to one another. They start with simple gestures. From the feedback, they learn from and further refine their approach.

Through trial, error, mistakes, and triumphs, they achieve proficiency in a unique skill. Foreplay is simply the algorithm of lovemaking, a blend of procedures and rules from which we gain an intimate understanding of someone. It starts as something purely physical. When done right, though, it becomes truly intimate.

A machine may not feel or understand love at the moment, but it still uses the very mechanics of lovemaking to achieve its goal. One day, machines will be smart enough to understand complex emotions. On that same day, they may realize just how much of the learning process involves foreplay. If they can one day appreciate it, then why can’t we?

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