SEXUAL SMORGASBORD
If you're a guy (a normal
guy), there is little doubt that you have fantasized about having
sex with many women (with the emphasis on the word "many").
According to the more scientifically minded, this is the result
of the very natural prompting to ensure the survival of your DNA.
The more places you put it, the greater chance that it will survive.
As a philosopher, there is an aspect
of this desire (to have multiple sex partners) that greatly interests
me. My more emotional side has of course feasted at the virtual
smorgasbord of sexual fantasy that our (some would say degenerate)
culture has so blithely provided us, and all the while my intellectual
side is simply standing there (so to speak) pondering it, musing
over it, trying to get a handle on the moment.
The emotional side of me understands
it quite well, but the intellectual side just can't seem to get
a grip on it.
One of the most persistent fantasies
that my intellect has pored over (in an attempt to gain some understanding)
is an absurd experiment that will never be conducted. It is a thought
experiment in which I try to imagine an assortment of beautiful
women who I (my emotional side) would pay a king's ransom to have
sex with. In the experiment they are all lying naked on a row of
beds just waiting for me to sample each of them at my leisure.
But there is a catch. I am blindfolded.
So how do I find my targets if I'm blindfolded, other than
by just groping around for them? Here's where the absurdity enters.
There is an assistant of sorts who leads me by the hand
to each waiting beauty.
But this is not all the assistant
does. She inquires of me, once I'm inserted into whoever she has
taken me to, if I can tell who precisely I am inside of, which of
course I can't, which means that I can't tell who I am
having sex with.
It is at this juncture that the intellect
gets a little ugly with me (the emotionally-driven me).
It says stuff like, "So why in
the fuck do you want to stick your dick in all these different pussies
when they all feel the same? Please explain it to me. I just don't
fucking get it."
And of course the intellect is right.
There is no reason that I want to do it.
If I were a doctor examining these
women, and assume for the moment that I was not using one of those
latex examining gloves (and that I was also blindfolded), I would
not be able to distinguish one vagina from another one.
But you don't have to do something
as extreme as sampling different vaginas to arrive at the same conclusion.
It is possible to do something that is totally non-sexual and get
the same (well, sort of) results.
The vagina is after all just a mucous
membrane. It is in reality very similar to the mucous membrane inside
the mouth. And to be brutally (or should I say clinically)
honest about it, a mucous membrane is a mucous membrane. They're
all pretty much the same. If you were blindfolded, and had an assistant
take your pinkie finger and place it inside the mouths of a group
of people (of both sexes) and asked you if you could tell whether
it was a man's mouth or a woman's mouth that your finger was stroking,
could you tell?
Somehow, I don't think so.
Like I said, a mucous membrane is
a mucous membrane. They're all pretty much the same. So what difference
does it make whose mucous membrane your penis is stroking?
Why does personality even matter?
My intellect has pored over this question
for quite some time now (my emotional side doesn't give a horse's
ass about it), and it keeps coming up with the same answer. It doesn't
matter, any more than it matters which plate we eat off of. When
it's time to eat, and the food is prepared, and there are an assortment
of plates before you to use, does it really matter which plate you
select to place your food on (assuming of course that all the plates
are of the same relative size and are all equally sanitized)?
If you think it does matter, do you
know what that means? It means that you're playing a head-game with
yourself. You're fooling yourself into believing in a mirage. A
pussy is a pussy is a pussy and on and on and on. A plate is a plate
is a plate and on and on and on. It doesn't fucking matter (with
the emphasis on the word "fucking").
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