vraiThe things you say are well reasoned and completely logical.
Well, duh 😉
But … am I to take it that your response here is to both parts of my own reply, or should I be awaiting a more detailed response to the first part separately?
But to me, a woman who has had mostly men as sex partners, it is very apparent that you are a man who has had mostly women as sex partners.
Had you slept with more men (although to be fair, I am talking about men attracted to women so I am not sure how that could have worked out) you would have seen the glaring fallacy:
I haven’t slept with any men … nor do I anticipate that will I ever do so.
I’m only capable of falling in romantic Love with a woman … only capable of being sexually aroused by a woman — and possibly a really cute female alien/extraterrestrial, I don’t know (I’ve never met one to my knowledge).
Good luck to those whose preferences are other than mine or even run to mine and more (I’ve counted many people of other sexualities amongst my friends over the years), but I’m not even envious of those latter, let alone jealous — I’m happy in my own and, so long as it doesn’t involve rape/abuse, it’s of no more significance to me than the colour of someone’s eyes or their hair what someone else’s preference/s is/are.
It’s not that I can’t find men physically attractive … I’m just not sexually attracted to them — I have what I believe is termed a ‘genital preference’ these days … and it’s female.
Nor is it that I am incapable of falling in Love with a man; I’ve fallen as deeply in Love with friends of both sexes as I have with any of my partners. But it’s a different kind of Love … not romantic love.
for some inexplicable reason, men don’t vocalize during sex.
I know my sample size is nowhere near big enough to make a sweeping statement like that. On the other hand, I’m not a virgin either. I have not had any vanilla lovers grunt or growl. Sighs were the best I could hope for and if I was very lucky maybe a single “ohh” near the end.
That’s not to say they didn’t respond during sex, but it’s mostly done in complete silence.
It’s actually kinda creepy. I imagine the woman who “just lies there” is equally creepy. Like, what happened to clear and enthusiastic consent? But they all assured me they were enjoying themselves, so I don’t know what the hell is going on there, aside from knowing I don’t want that sort of thing in my bed anymore.
Oh, dear … where to even start.
Some of them were, perhaps, simply selfish ‘lovers’ … it’s hard to say the word without the inverted commas because that kind of person is never a lover, in or out of bed. Your pleasure was of no concern to them, only their own. So they had no reason to show you anything, no urge to make you feel good about yourself any more than they would a sex doll.
This is the fantasy
The reality, however, is this …
And I do mean is.
Men like that don’t need to wait for a future in which sophisticated technology will serve their needs; you’re already here and already do — they aren’t making love, nor even having sex … they’re just jerking off into you.
On the other hand, maybe they were anxious … too anxious … to please and scared to let go. Once you let go as a man, that’s it, game over … and it’s very difficult not to feel inadequate if that happens. We no longer live in an era in which men needn’t realise that women even have orgasms let alone that they take longer to achieve them and, furthermore, can have multiple … so the pressure is on to some extent to perform, even if you’re only doing it for the ego boost, not because you actually feel anything for her.
So, you don’t let go … don’t lose yourself in the pleasure of the moment. So, there are no grunts of pleasure to be made — not because things aren’t pleasurable, but because they aren’t that pleasurable yet (you daren’t let them be).
One of my exes used to say explicitly during sex “Don’t come!” … meaning “don’t come yet, please, I’m not done.” But she’d never say “Come!” So, I never knew when it was safe to and would hold off until I barely had the energy left to move any more. Others would moan “Oh, come! Come!” … which I might’ve been close to doing but it would make me feel under pressure to deliver a performance to order and set me right back — not least because I would have to conceive of, construct and vocalise a coherent response of “in a moment” in a moment in which my ability to think straight wasn’t really all that great … which would take me right out of the place I had been and then the moment was lost and I was back to square one.
It’s different for men … we don’t get to lie back and let ourselves go unless we really don’t care about you, don’t have any ego either and don’t care what you think of us afterwards.
And, if you are in Love with her and/or do care … or at least have an ego and worry about what she’ll think of you … you spend an awful lot of time holding your breath — the number one reason why men fall asleep after sex is oxygen deprivation (look it up). You’re so busy keeping yourself in check whilst simultaneously trying to do so without losing the plot (and consequently your erection) that you literally don’t have the mental capacity to focus on controlling your breathing as well (so that you don’t get overexcited by your autonomous responses as they sync with your ever hastening, ever heavier breathing) and it’s just easier (and more effective) not to.
You can grunt a bit when holding your breath, but you can’t really vocalise.
Added to which, if you’re vocalising, you’re being careful what you say … either so as not to offend her or else you’re remembering what she likes and in both instances the cognitive load takes you focus away from what it was that was exciting you and you’re in danger, once more, of losing your erection … with all the attendant embarrassment, feelings of inadequacy, concern about your reputation (if that’s a concern for you under the circumstances), etc. Sex is hard work for a man, especially if he has to think about more than one thing at the same time … because thinking about anything other than what turns you on leads you down the path of lost erections and, unlike a woman, you can’t simply carry on as though nothing has changed until you get yourself back in the mood — you can’t fake an erection … your partner is going to notice.
Then there are those who are shy about it all … repressed … who just aren’t going to vocalise come what may (including them). It has nothing to do with you … likely not even them … and everything to do with their upbringing — they just can’t.
You know … there’s a joke about a (English) guy who’s crap in bed …and always disappointed by his wife lying there like a sack of potatoes as a result … who finally snaps one day and, having seen more than enough porn to know how women are ‘supposed’ to be in bed, reproaches her with “You’re supposed to moan!”
To which she replies, looking over his shoulder, “Alright then … when are you finally going to paint the bedroom ceiling like you said you would?”
So, you’re a (possibly painfully shy) man, desperately … desperately … in Love with her, anything from anxious-not-to to terrified-of disappointing her or even of her simply being unfulfilled (through no fault of yours, but that’s not the point)… for, oh, so many reasons. If she can have one, she can have multiple and, if you love her (or simply have an ego), of course you want her to have multiple, so you hold on even longer. You don’t want to spoil the moment, so, you’re careful not to say the wrong thing and trying (in your lust/love befuddled mind) to say the right things, which is distracting and makes you anxious about losing your erection, which is a vicious circle. So, you start thinking of arousing things to get you back on track (like whom you’re with, why and what you’re doing with her right here and now) ... which risks sending you over the edge the other way … which is also cause for anxiety … and back you go again in the other direction. You’re paying close attention to what her body is telling you as well as any vocalisations she might make — not all women do and even those who do don’t always bark instructions at you, they move and moan and sigh to let you know when you’re doing it right (or not, when you’re not), so body language and possibly even only negative moaning are all you have to go on and you have to pay very close attention (there‘s’ no time for thinking of things to say as well). You’re holding yourself on the cusp of not letting go but remaining aroused and excited enough to not lose your erection either. You’re trying to keep whatever mood was going on in your head on the boil but not boiling over. You’re trying to keep the mood right for her. She might, herself, be subject to any or all of the above and you’re not getting the feedback you need to know what’s going on with her or what’s expected of you. You’re holding your breath because not breathing means one less thing to worry about and you’ve already got enough of those right now.
And she’s complaining that you aren’t saying enough!?
Jesus!
Hang on … I’ll just fetch the ladder and some paint, shall I?
If you’re not sure if a man is enjoying himself with you, ask yourself this simple question: does he have an erection?
If the answer is “yes” then, trust me, he’s enjoying himself.
I can’t promise you he’s enjoying himself for the right reasons as far as you’re concerned … can’t promise he loves you, cares about you or even simply likes you. Hell, I can’t promise you he’s even thinking about you.
But … for whatever reason(s) … he is enjoying himself with you.
Whether that’s enough for you is a an altogether different matter, but that’s the way it is as far as a man is concerned: “he has an erection” means he’s enjoying himself (with or without you).
Well yeah I agree, it was probably a man or woman who, like me, didn’t want to deal with a certain thing during sex, like deafening silence. That’s what I mean, we had to make up a vocabulary to say “hey, I like to have sex this way” — which, by the way, is mostly used in online communities where leading with you preferences for sex is completely acceptable, even if it’s not in face-to-face communities (yet).
On a side note, this is probably the one topic where gate-keeping is a good thing. I sure as hell hope everyone is selective about who they invite into their chambers.
Gatekeeping is … if not never then seldom … a good thing in the sense that I was describing it.
It isn’t about the benefit of the ‘community’ it’s about the personality disordered exercising control over it.
They needn’t be doing so maliciously … they may eve delude themelves into genuinely believing that their intentions are benign to such an extent that, to all intents and purposes, they might even be described as such to some extent.
But they aren’t actually … they’re control freaks trying to label and pigeonhole people. Their choice of sexuality as the category of characteristic by which they choose to do so is not in itself significant; it could just as equally be anything else, from what clothes someone wears to what music they like … to whether they keep their front lawn adequately trimmed … to whether they hire help or can’t afford to. Whatever it is, it’s all about judgement and putting people in their place, deciding which doors are open to whom and under what circumstances — from whether they may join the golf club to whether they may call themselves ‘primal’ or whatever else a person might wish to call themselves … to labeling them as something, whether they wish to be or not (“No, no, don’t argue with me. I know what I’m talking about and, even though you don’t dress up or roleplay, you are a furry”) … by way of determining their reputation in absentia and in advance “Oh, yes, she’s a sub alright, I can tell.”
However innocent the intent may be, the results aren’t. Maybe they aren’t demanding that Jews wear yellow stars on their clothes by insisting that there be an orthodoxy to people’s deviancy (oh, the irony) but we know what kind of boy he is … all we’re doing is haggling over the price — and a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
We’re not talking about an academic (or whatever) discipline in which an orthodoxy serves the purpose of establishing a fundamental understanding that everyone is on the same page when talking about (and doing) things … we’re discussing people’s sexuality — and it makes as much sense to put labels on something so uniquely individual as it did to have a question of which woman was prettier in an IQ test.
You may find the taxonomy of orthodoxy useful in this particular instance, but … I hate to break it to you … deviant from the norm though you may be, you’re a conservative and not even tacitly but actively supporting a social regime that prevents people from simply being themselves at their most fundamental without needing permission to be so — for, whether you think it significant or not … the effects others’ support of the orthodoxy has on those less strong willed than you is real.
Take, for example, our discussion(s) here so far.
I’m not upset or offended in/them any way … I know (I think) enough of you to take your arguments as expressions of opinion with no active intent to try and coerce me in any way (even if you thought yourself in a position to do so). You present your arguments, make your case, but that’s it … if I disagree, we agree to disagree, no harm, no foul (and vice versa).
But, at the same time, whilst I have spent my time arguing that, no, I’m not this or that or the other, I’m simply me … you (whether rightly or wrongly is immaterial) spend your time trying to persuade me that, no, I am in fact this thing you say I am and my perception of who I am at one of the most fundamental levels it is possible to even be me is inadequate/incomplete/misguided/pick-a-descriptor-any-descriptor.
I’m not suggesting that you are consciously or malevolently trying to control or restrict me … but the fundamental premise is that you know who and what I am and my own opinion is not germane, because you know better and I should, therefore, accept your assessment/judgement and take it to heart.
Of course you won’t try to force me or berate me in any way, if I don’t, but that’s not the point — the point is that the argument is that I should accept that my sexuality is not mine to determine … I am not my own man.
Of course, you might be right … maybe I am a ‘primal’ and just don’t (or won’t) recognise it. Maybe I am a dom in denial. Maybe it would benefit me to open myself up to the possibility that I am a sexual deviant and free myself to be who I really am without restraint at last.
But you know what …
So far my appreciation of my sexuality as it has been, and currently is, has not hindered my sex life or my enjoyment of it in any way. I’ve not found myself unable to express who I am as a sexual being without a label attached to it. I haven’t had to introduce myself to people on-or-off-line as a this or that in bed in order to avail myself of plentiful romantic and/or sexual opportunities.
Nor do I need the help of a label in understanding that I am deviant from the norm … I’m that alright without needing to add a sexual dimension — one way and another, people have been telling me that all my life. … and even when they didn’t, simple observation on my part led me to the same conclusion frequently enough.
All a label adds to my life is the concern that one more piece of what little commonality I may share with the rest of the human race … that (in this instance) my sexuality is not normal because it tallies with heteronormative standards but because it is, in its expression, within a healthy range (I’m not a rapist, not a paedophile, not abusive, not controlling, not submissive, not masochistic, etc.) … is denuded … that I am even more alone than I already felt because I share even less of my humanity with even fewer people.
Now I am, I think you’ll agree, generally speaking, a fairly strong-willed, assertive individual … big enough, strong enough and more than ugly enough to stand my ground and fight my corner.
What if I weren’t though?
What if someone telling me who and what I am were beyond my ability to resist? What if I felt that little bit more alienated as a result and that the only people with whom I shared anything any more were this little band of people wearing the same label I’d been given?
What if I feared that, without them, I’d be on my own, all alone in the World with no-one to turn to and nowhere to run when things got tough?
Cults are one thing.
But they’re not the only place that cult-like thinking and practices thrive; be wary of falling prey to it not only but especially when it seems to your own benefit. People (including yourself) are always what you think — be careful whom you think, therefore.
So, there you are, young, uncertain, not very assertive, confused about yourself and your place in the World … and there’s this description of a lot of things that say to you “Yes, you recognise this. You know this from the inside. This is (at least a dimension of) who you fundamentally are.”
Which is more useful … the appreciation that you are not alone, that there have been, are (and may be in the Future) others like you? Or a label that delineates and limits who and what you may be … that says “This is what you are. If there are any elements of it that don’t seem to fit you are just in denial about them. If there any things about you that don’t seem to fit it, you are deluded about them. For this is what you are.“? Just how useful is a description that seems to encourage you to “Be your true self, who you really are” whilst simultaneously subtexting “Conform”?
I can look up my sexual behaviour, learn that it’s uncommon perhaps but not unheard of, that there are others who are similar in theirs and be reassured that I have nothing to worry about, therefore — I’m within tolerances and doing nothing morally reprehensible (not a rapist, etc.)
I don’t need a label to be slapped on me as a result … it changes nothing other than that I now feel feel labelled, pigeonholed, diminished — for I am no longer simply me, but a thing … a thing that can be labelled.
Now, when it comes to things that aren’t personal, that’s not an issue. Yes, I’m a man, what of it? Yes, I’m white, but that’s an accident of birth, so what?
When it comes to things that are a matter of choice but not a reflection of who I am as a person, that too is, if not entirely insignificant then at least not cause for concern. Sure, I’m a raver — I’m dressed head-to-toe in neon yellow and green and hardly in a position to deny it (or I was then anyway).
But my sexuality? Why does that need a label? Reassure me that I’m not abnormal, by all means. Make me feel that it’s okay to like the things I do and that I’m not alone in doing so, please. But how does making me feel like a deviant .. abnormal … different … an outsider … but not unique (oh, no) … different, but only the proscribed manner … help me in any way?
Like I said, I don’t take it personally and, when I say ‘me’, I’m just using myself as an example … a vehicle with which to present a argument and train of thought. But I’m deadly serious about the points I’m making: encouraging people to feel it’s okay to be themselves is one thing … forcing them into pigeonholes is something else altogether — and that includes doing it unintentionally by encouraging them to try and conform to something that may not … fuck it, I was going to say “something that may not adequately describe them, for they are more than that, even in that one dimension alone, let alone in their totality”, but, you know what … no, it includes doing it unintentionally by encouraging them to try and conform to anything.
No no, there’s such a thing as vanilla, I am just not completely sure that it’s less of a kink than kink.
we’re only discussing kink here, not fetishes)
What, for you, is the difference?
See, sex is like Baskin Robbins Ice Cream: there’s 32 flavors of ice cream (there’s probably more, but they keep advertising around here and for the sake of the metaphor it will do)
[…]
But, “sexual preference” and “sexuality” are words that have become permanently linked to gender preferences, so what other language are we left with besides “kink”? It’s a flavor of sex, just like vanilla is. Less popular but equally dependent on taste. And just like ice cream there’s going to be people who want one scoop of this and one scoop of that. One of those scoops might even be vanilla. Because vanilla is nice even if it’s not your all time favorite. There’s going to be people who always eat the same thing and people who want to try out all the flavors. But in the end, which flavor is best is subjective and all of the flavors will give you ice cream.
I think you’re trying to argue that there’s such a thing as vanilla because it isn’t mint-choc chip, but not only does that seem like fallacious reasoning (like saying that everyone who isn’t homosexual is heterosexual) but furthermore, as I suggested, impossible: if you are always a sub/dom/switch then you are, by definition, not vanilla. The fact that you aren’t mint-choc chip either is irrelevant, because even though you might not read the graffito “My wife dresses in black leather and whips me - oh, Kay!” smile and think “Yup, me too” that doesn’t mean you don’t have a kink … because you do: sub/dom/switch — although I’d argue that you, yourself, as a ‘switch’ are at least 50% vanilla in that case, since switches don’t favour one or the other in that dimension, so everything they do is 50/50 (if there’s a ‘vanilla’ at all, it’s ‘switch’).
If you don’t like me referring to myself as a ‘vanilla’, remember that I wasn’t the first to do so, I simply took it on as a shorthand way of describing the fact that I don’t have any peccadillos that would normally be considered meretricious of being labelled as such.
Although, as a man, I’m instinctively fascinated by breasts and do have a tendency to be drawn to the classically healthy physique, I like women of all shapes and sizes and have no specific preference for any of them.
I’m not a ‘leg man’ or an ‘ass man’
In fact, if there’s any part of a woman’s physiology to which I am especially drawn, it’s her face (which isn’t a kink or a fetish as far as I am aware).
I’m not drawn specifically to blondes or brunettes or redheads or any specific hair colour at all …
Although I don’t object to it and, given its intent, am capable of being aroused by it, I have no particular fascination with ‘sexy lingerie’ and have spent my entire life wondering why women care what their underwear looks like or why they spend money on it, because the only thing I’m interested in is getting it off them as quickly as possible and seeing what lies beneath and I’m really not looking at it — it’s a barrier and of no interest to me.
Sure, I’m probably accurately described as sapiosexual but you know full well that that’s hardly a kink per se and that, once I’ve found myself sufficiently attracted to her as to consider her a desirable sex partner then, whilst I might very well want to fuck her brains out, because
- it’s more of an ego boost if she actually has some to begin with
- the idea of sex with a mental defective makes me feel queasy and the prospect doesn’t get me hard (far from it)
… the point is that I do want to fuck her brains out — it’s animal now and it really won’t be a Jedi delusion; the only sleights of hand I’ll be intent on engaging in are the kind that get her hot and my fingers wet.
Sure, I get a bit physical during the act … although I’m more than capable of being (so I’ve been told) unusually gentle and tender … but that’s not a kink, that’s simply down to my neurocognitive and hormonal makeup: I’m an adrenaline junkie … I get excitable when I’m excited and, as a result, highly physical, prone to play fighting, wrestling, that kind of thing (but I don’t need to be engaged in sex to do that), (gentle) biting on occasion … although what seems to work best is if I go in for the kill only to rein it back in at the last second and merely graze, or not even do it at all, just hover there, barely containing myself but resisting the urge to even so much as graze the skin, let alone sink my ‘fangs’ in as it were — granted, there might be some growling at that point to let her know that just because I didn’t that doesn’t mean I had no intention of doing so, just that I controlled myself (but that’s for her benefit, not mine; I’m simply communicating to her how I feel in another way than I would necessarily choose for myself that lets her know what form my choice would take). And, yes, I’ll do the moaning and sighing thing as and when it’s appropriate, but, again, that’s not to my own benefit, doesn’t feed a personal urge or need, but because total silence tells her nothing about how I feel about her, how I feel about her in the moment, how I feel about what she’s doing and that’s inconsiderate and disrespectful; so I communicate with her to let her know I care about her, that she and this thing we are doing are of literally unspeakable significance to me, which is why it has gone beyond words and into the realm of the physical (and, at most, grunts, moans, sighs and other incoherent noises), that she has driven me beyond the point of rational thought and vocalisation of higher order concepts … all there is is her and this shared moment of eternity in the now — but, otherwise, I too would be totally focused on my own pleasure and entirely silent as a result.
So, I’m sorry but I just don’t recognise anything about myself or my sexuality as anything other than ‘within normal parameters’ … I see no kink, let alone fetish (by my understanding of what most people understand by the two), nor do I feel labeling either myself or it would make it any better than it already is, any more meaningful, any more exciting, any more uninhibited. I don’t feel inhibited by virtue of being ‘vanilla’ … I feel special enough to be spending this time with you, doing this thing, for the reason(s) we are here and now without even calling myself ‘vanilla.’ It’s exciting enough for me as it is ¹. I don’t need to feel welcomed by a community of like-minded souls — I’m not sleeping with them, I’m sleeping with you and you’re all I need …putting a label on it isn’t going to change that in any way.
—
¹ Apart from special occasions, I won’t go into ², I certainly wouldn’t be doing it, if it weren’t.
² Grudge-fucking isn’t a pretty thing … nor is “fine, if it means you’ll stop pestering me for a while, I’ll do it” particularly noble.
