I know I rant about this all the time, but I still can’t believe so many people think women are less “visually oriented” than men. And it mostly seems to be men who insist on this; male cartoonists and stand-up comics just love to go on and on about how women are inherently gorgeous and men are inherently gross, and how women can’t possibly understand what it’s like to crave sex.
First off, I don’t understand why so many guys want so badly to believe this about women. Maybe it takes some pressure off; if women don’t care about looks, guys don’t have to worry about whether they’re attractive enough – they can feel confident that they’ll find partners without ever having to work out, moisturize, get their clothes tailored, etc. And I guess if women don’t like sex, then guys don’t have to make an effort at that, either (female orgasms? What are those?). Going through life feeling like your partners tolerate you but don’t desire you sounds like a death sentence to me, but to each his own, I guess.
Secondly, the whole “women are beautiful and men are not” thing is just more male-gaze bullshit. The people saying that men are ugly are straight dudes. Of course they don’t think guys are attractive. But here’s a crazy thought: maybe not everyone on the fucking planet is a straight dude. Maybe there are straight women, too*. And maybe – just maybe – being a straight woman means being attracted to men. I think that may in fact literally be the definition of “straight woman.” So yeah, guys…I’m pretty sure your statement that men are universally gross isn’t actually true.
Third: how the fuck do you know that women aren’t as perverted or as into sex as you are? When women try to talk about sex, we get slapped down and slut-shamed. Comedian Dave Attell once asked the women in his audience whether penis size matters; when a bunch of women clapped and cheered, he quipped, “Well, the whores have spoken…” and I’ve seen at least one other comic do a similar thing. Which I guess further supports the idea that a lot of dudes really don’t want women to have agency and desire. If we do, it means we might be judging them. It’s easier to think of us as the objects of their desire and nothing more.
I am (or at least I have been, from time to time) as huge a horndog and pervert as any guy. I can say this with confidence because I know how horny guys can be. I know how horny guys can be because they won’t shut the fuck up about it – Louis CK even describes his mental process in detail in the clip I linked up there, and so does Larry Miller in a similar comedy bit. “Men are horny and here’s what that looks and feels like” is embedded everywhere in our culture.
Men, though…they rarely hear women speak frankly about sex because a lot of people will shut us up if we even try. You don’t know how we feel about sex, guys. And it sorta seems like you don’t want to know. You’d rather make sweeping statements based on your own point of view: “I’m not attracted to men, so I guess nobody is. Women don’t wanna fuck me, so I guess they don’t wanna fuck anyone.”
Stop it. Just…stop it.
In related news, I’m craving The Pedant so hard today. It’s probably too soon to invite him over again, though, so I’m contenting myself with remembering his body in glorious detail.
GLORIOUS. DETAIL. My brain today is basically a loop of continuous Pedant stock footage from the times I’ve had him over.
The way his torso tapers at the waist. The way his legs taper at the calves. His pouty, pouty lips. DAT ASS. His hands, which are utterly sexy to me – undeniably masculine but still graceful (no sausage fingers). The way he fills out a pair of boxer briefs. The way he tents out a pair of boxer briefs. That look of concentration on his face when he comes.
And since I’m also highly tactile, The Pedant’s flavours and textures are also figuring into my thoughts. Sometimes I’ll just be puttering around the apartment by myself, doing whatever, and suddenly I’ll crave the taste of his mouth. Or his nipples. Or his cock. True story.
If I think a guy is pretty, his appearance can make me feel drugged. The Pedant totally has this effect on me. I flat-out eye-hump him pretty much constantly; sometimes I forget to listen to what he’s saying because I get distracted watching his lips move. And none of this goes away after I’ve orgasmed, by the way. We’ll be post-coitally watching movies and I’m sneaking tiny little glances at his profile (OMG THOSE LIPS OMG). He’ll get up to use the bathroom and I’ll be running my eyes up and down his back, ass, and legs as he leaves the room.
The Pedant’s prettiness (and, I’ll admit, his lovely responsiveness and somewhat submissive demeanour) also bring out my predatory side, big time. Fucking him is, to me, kind of like just licking a piece of chocolate: it’s good, but it’s not enough. I want to eat the chocolate. I want to consume The Pedant until there’s nothing left. I’m not sure what exactly it would take to satisfy me in this regard** but I’m certain it would involve doing things to The Pedant that he would never actually allow, so I try not to think about it too much.
Arrrrrgh goddammit I want The Pedant. I want him so fucking badly. And I also want someone(s) who’ll let me do all the hardcore D/s The Pedant won’t (such a shame that The Mensch drifted away…).
*And gay men, of course. But right now I’m ranting about women’s desires being erased.
**Being up to my wrist in that lovely ass would be a good start…