Andrea Dworkin and Antonin Scalia beware: I am a girl, and I like porn.
I am not being facetious. I am not saying I like porn for Jenny McCarthy reasons -- because this will somehow win me Guy Points, alongside being "oh so cool enough" to belch, fart, and watch The Game all K-Fed style over a six-pack and Doritos. I hate The Game, and anything having to do with The Game. Give me the King of Prussia mall, a gaggle of girlfriends, and Spa Day, thank you.
I am not saying it to make some Grand, Radical Statement About How Different And Special I Am, Unlike Those Other, Silly, Prudish Women. (Although you'll see me first in line to convince those pesky anti-sex feminists that simulated sex is swell in a heartbeat!)
I am not saying it to try to land a future gig. (My mother, bless her soul, would kill me. Also, I'm really picky about who I fuck, which I doubt is an especially lucrative attitude for a porn star to harbor).
So why am I saying it?
'Cause I'm a consumer, and I demand better porn! For serious.
Just the other day, I was watching some hot clip I found off of Creamlog when a rather disturbing image stopped me mid-pant. The pneumatic, auburn-coiffed lass on the telly getting fucked from behind turned around mid-coitus, ostensibly to show her contortions and writhing even better. But the camera picked up her face at the most inopportune moment, because our chicklet closed her eyes and
YAWNED! Girlfriend was bored! I know they don't call it sex "work" for nothing, but good Lord, Porn Industry, was the deep-dicking that bad for this Creamlog siren that I had to endure a perfectly beautiful redhead dropping off during doggy style?
I guess that's my problem with today's porn in general. There will always be some sort of simulation, manipulation, and manuevering in porn that just ain't how it is in Real Sex (tm). Fantasy is fantasy -- I don't expect every misplaced jiggle, unkempt coiffure, or flaccid cock to make it on screen, and that's fine. Sex is magic, as is theatre.
I do, however, don't get the complete lack of build-up, plot, or anything resembling some of the hottest, most imperfect parts of Real Sex making it into today's stag films. I understand that 95% of the porn audience wants to get from the Play button to the money shot, but must this mean a complete lack of context situating Chesty LaRue in her sexy, sexy peril? I mean, jeez.
I was watching the old-skool classic Maraschino Cherry with a pal. Good God, how different porn was in the 70s! Minutes would go by without fucking of any kind, the men didn't sport cocks that would make Ron Jeremy blush, and "bikini wax" wasn't yet in the female vernacular. The women looked like less than 50% of their body was made out of silicone. Some of the cheesiness made me gag (I'm looking at you, Mr. Porn Guy With a Pornstache) but this whole idea that hot sex could be situated in a plot was, y'know... kinda nice.
I'm considering becoming an old-skool porn connoisuier and live-blogging my old-skool porn viewings on this blog for critique, hawtness, and teh LULZ. What say you, gentle readers? Should I revisit Debbie Does Dallas?
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