well, this explains it

There are some things about my psyche that I have only begun to analyze, in an attempt to understand. There’s a corner of my being that I haven’t been able to wrap words around. Until I read something Remittance Girl wrote. (Seriously, she should be part of your reading list)

This is objectification. This is depersonalization. This is transactional sex with absolutely no strings attached. It’s the shameless use of a human for your own pleasure. And if I ever doubted that I would sink that ‘low’, I had all my self-delusions disabused that night.

What stopped me was pure practicality: I didn’t trust him to make sure the condom stayed put. It’s the one physical reality of being female – you’re really NOT in charge of the condom.

Fast forward a few years. I’m hatching a very warm relationship with a fellow writer online. I like him immensely. I think he’s sexy and witty and smart as hell. Not only that, but he’s physically very beautiful. Before I knew him, I would have loved a pic of him with his hand around his cock, jerking off. But now – now I know him – it just wouldn’t be the same.

A significant aspect of why porn turns us on is because the object of desire is emotionally distant from us. It’s not that you can’t engage in furious masturbation with some explicit image of someone you adore – but it isn’t the same. The minute you care for someone, there’s an inescapable complication that worms its way into that pure, lizard-brained lust and mucks up the works.

The proof of this is that, after you’ve wanked to the dick-pic of your sweetheart, after you’ve come and lie there panting and spent, you will wipe off your sticky fingers and pick up the phone again to look upon it lovingly, affectionately, warmly. Then, you’ll tell him what you did.

That’s just not porn. It’s good, it’s great, it’s much better in some ways, but damn it – it doesn’t have that uncomplicated, purely self-serving eye to crotch closed circuit thing going for it. Well, not for me.

Read the complete post here

Perhaps out of all I’ve posted above, this is the part that holds me tight:

A significant aspect of why porn turns us on is because the object of desire is emotionally distant from us. It’s not that you can’t engage in furious masturbation with some explicit image of someone you adore – but it isn’t the same. The minute you care for someone, there’s an inescapable complication that worms its way into that pure, lizard-brained lust and mucks up the works.

What she wrote here expresses beautifully, an aspect of my mind. Perhaps my interaction with online men, is in fact, my porn. I ache and crave for the next brilliant mind fuck. Mind you, there is a difference between cybering with someone and truly participating in a mind fuck, as far as I am concerned. I don’t care to “cyber” with some random horny net dude.  That’s meaningless and carries no arousal for me. It’s the melding of minds, a chemistry of words bound by a mind fuck and an explosion of body reactions that gets me going. When it’s good, I ache for more. One simple word from the other person triggers my wetness. I’m on the edge of my seat, holding my breath, waiting for the next time our paths will cross. Inevitably they do, time and time again, and it’s beautiful, but in some cases, something else happens.

These men begin to know me and I them on a more personal level. Some of them show me the picture of who they are behind the mask. Sometimes it works to stir up my lust for them even more, other times it destroys the picture I had in my mind. I simply don’t find them physically attractive and it ruins my fantasy. Causing our passionate interactions to fade. (I’m sure I’ve ruined a few fantasies for some out there as well).

Then, some of these men become actual friends. The boundary of internet relationships gets shattered with the occurrence of real life friendships. I get to know their personal lives, their passions and the day to day and they get to know mine. Suddenly things change. The fiery passion between two strangers gets turned into acknowledgment of being real people. I find that this often changes things. At least for me.

Am I that shallow? Or have I not found the right man to be my fantasy and my reality?

I choose to believe the second. For there are men, men I have met in real life, or seen photographs and have even gotten to know on more personal levels, that still keep my blood boiling. Perhaps with me, there needs to be a good balance. There needs to be some mystery. I want to know them more than the avatar on the screen, but I don’t want to know everything about them. Just enough to make them special, but not too much to ruin the fantasy.

There are a few men today, I know what they look like and I know bits and pieces of their real life, and I know I want to offer my physical self to them. I fantasize about one day actually being with them, and yet, I don’t think it will ever happen. My own personal beliefs or morals and/or distance keeps it as such. So then, does this really count? Is there a safety in attraction because we will never “go there”?

The minute you care for someone, there’s an inescapable complication that worms its way into that pure, lizard-brained lust and mucks up the works.

I’ve written a post before on how love can often fuck up a D/s relationship, or to put it kinder, restrain a D/s relationship. How is that for ironic? Over a year ago, the D/s relationship Sylvanus and I explored together faded. Sure, there have been blips here and there. While he was on a trip in Switzerland, we ignited a D/s communication between the two of us. My husband still has dominant tendencies in the bedroom, which I adore, but we are no longer Dominant and submissive to each other. Life happens. Sylvanus and I have been met with many challenges. Work has gotten increasingly demanding for Sylvanus. At the end of the day, all available mind space that he has, he has no desire to use as a Dominant. I can respect him for that. My desire to be a submissive still runs strong, however, he does not feel the need to be a Dominant. I am lucky that my husband is allowing me to find a Dominant in my life to help fulfill that part of me that is missing. But this goes a little of topic from the above quote.

Sylvanus and I are first and foremost, husband and wife. This is how we function. This is how we work in the real life. We love each other dearly. Because of this, things get sticky. I can openly admit that I don’t see Sylvanus as my Dominant anymore. Love makes things tricky. Or perhaps simply knowing the type of man my husband is, does. I have deep, dark and hidden desires I want to have ripped out of me by a most deserving Dom. I don’t think my husband can do this for me. Not for his lack of trying. Because he IS my husband, I admit to being shy to let myself go. Perhaps because he IS my husband, I am afraid to see him go to those dark corners. I’m afraid of being too over the edge for him.

As it stands, I desire to find a Dominant. No complications. This man is in my life for one purpose and one purpose only, to share in the powerful experience of a D/s relationship. Will there be love? Of course, but the love between Dominant and submissive is different than the love of a husband and wife. I will not look to this man to give me the wealth of support life requires me to have. He need only be my Dominant in every way that I need him to be as such.

There it is then.. a section of my being I never thought I could put words to. Perhaps my interaction with men via the internet is my porn.

This is objectification. This is depersonalization. This is transactional sex with absolutely no strings attached. It’s the shameless use of a human for your own pleasure.

I have a feeling some people don’t mind being my porn at all.