“The Power Exchange is the place people tell you to go when you move to SF because it’s all “wild” and “sexually free and expressive” but it just smells like shame and cum. I can smell the trunk of my car without paying a cover…thanks”—Ryan Jones (one of my co-workers)
The unfortunate side effect of being single—really, really single, and not “I’m not dating anyone, but I’m totally sleeping with 3 different people” single—is that you masturbate a lot. As a male, it’s the only thing that will keep you regular, and by regular I of course mean not a primordial ape-man trembling with pent up carnal desire because he has no opposable thumbs in which to grip objects securely. Staying regular prevents me from being less edgy and also from saying stupid things I’ll regret later to platonic female friends.
I am single right now because of 90% my own choice, 10% because no one’s biting, scratching or licking. The side effect of the prior paragraph is unfortunate because in committing the act, I’m having a seance of sorts by invoking all of my past lovers every time I close my eyes.
In Federico Fellini’s 8 1/2, Guido Anselmi finds himself confronted by all of his wives, girlfriends and flings in a dream sequence wherein they fight for control over both his attention and weak will. My sexual thought process is started with this idea; a harem of experience. Every smell, taste, flavor, texture and emotion archived and ready to be called upon at moments notice. During the process my thoughts create a Frankenstein monster of a lover: K’s hair, A’s eyes, M’s lips, J’s breasts. Body parts all stitched together and rolling around intertwined with my astral projection, pushing into each others skin and becoming one again, once again. All the things I savored while the reality of us being involved with each other was still current, all coming together for a single purpose.
…And then, nothing.
An exhale or a sigh. A moment taken to reconnect with reality. Waking up from a dream and realizing that I’m still in the same place I was before I closed my eyes. There is no intoxicating smell lingering caused by the raised temperature of the stagnant air occupied by two bodies…just silence. I am alone again and with only myself.
I am my own best lover, but I am longing for a tangible unstitched monster to occupy the space left vacant from prior failed experiments.
(a) Hypertrophy of the Maternal element — We have noted that in the daughter the mother-complex leads either to hypertrophy of the feminine side or to its atrophy. The exaggeration of the feminine side means an intensification of all female instincts, above all the maternal instinct. The negative aspect is seen in the woman whose only goal is childbirth. To her, the husband is obviously of secondary importance; he is first and foremost the instrument of procreation, and she regards him merely as an object to be looked after, along with children, poor relations, cats, dogs, and household furniture. Even her own personality is of secondary importance; she often remains entirely unconscious of it, for her life is lived in and through others, in more or less complete identification with all the objects of her care. First she gives birth to the children, and from then on she clings to them, for without them she has no existence whatsoever. Like Demeter, she compels the gods by her stubborn persistence to grant her the right of possession over her daughter. Her Eros develops exclusively as a maternal relationship while remaining unconscious as a personal one. An unconscious Eros always expresses itself as a will to power.
Women of this type, though continually “living for others” are, as a matter of fact, unable to make any real sacrifice. Driven by ruthless will to power and a fanatical insistence on their own maternal rights, they often succeed in annihilating not only their own personality but also the personal lives of their children. The less conscious such a mother is of her own personality, the greater and the more violent is her unconscious will to power.