Sunday, June 5, 2011

Closing up shop

Over the next few weeks, all public vestiges of this persona known as "Deity" will cease to remain active. I will not take down the material already published, but there will be no additional items added to the collections.

As i intend to completely abandon this site, and release it into the ether, i will also strip it of links to other sites in my sidebar should those over time cease to exist. The intention is to make this a completely standalone destination.

In this day, what gets published on the Internet persists indefinitely, so i do not buy into the illusion that i could take it all down. More importantly, that's not of interest to me. It may continue to serve as an entertaining distraction to those who come upon it organically, and for that reason, i'll seal it in a transparent time capsule as a documentation of a theme and time period that others may find on their own.

I've enjoyed my time installed at the helm of this "Deity". It was a good fit for a very long time. I will think of it and the wonderful interactions it has allowed me with fondness.

Be well.

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Porn: the scapegoat

I have battled a great deal of my life with the idea that my sexuality and how i express it has negative social implications - both for myself and my partners, but also, since i started authoring The Lustful Quality, for anyone who might stumble upon the myriad subjects tackled here. These walls that i have occupied for several years have acted as my refuge from the forces who insist my very appetites are damaging to both myself and their targets. Yet, i mislead those who have chosen to read my words if i do not permit the occasional counter point to my own perspective. I have achieved sanctuary under this pseudonym. The numerous entries penned as 'Deity' have allowed me to wrestle with my internal demons, and to put that struggle on display for you, the reader. All of it would lead one to believe that i have achieved immunity from any claims that i cause more harm than good. Unfortunately, such is not the case.

I have not recently received any direct rebuke for my expressions, but instead, i continue to encounter articles, well-intended of course, whose sole aim is to arouse alarm and fear. Recently, i came across an article written by a college professor that strikes at the very heart of what i feel i'd intelligently (if not a little arrogantly) defended. The author chooses to re-frame an old argument about porn media and the unruly decay it sows, but instead of focusing on the patriarchal subjugation of the female gender portrayed in it, she rushes to the aid of its target: our young men. Many of her points, on face value, resemble the pedestrian no-brainers of soliciting sympathy for our young men as victims (in addition to our young women). However, much of what she seeks to strike down as repugnant pornographic practices superimposes victimhood on our boys rather than actually succeeding in proving her thesis. Instead, as i read her scholarly argument, i found myself brewing with anger over how yet another 'adult' just doesn't understand what it is they are observing in porn's media dominance.

I think the best way i can illustrate my argument is to quote entire paragraphs of the article, followed by my counterpoint. I leave it to the reader to decide if i've done what i sought out to do.

When she says:

Defenders of porn say that it is just harmless fantasy and anyone who criticizes porn is an anti-sex prude. The reality is that porn, like all media images, has an effect on the way we think about the world, and while it won't turn the average boy or man into a rapist, it will help shape the way he thinks about women, sexuality and intimacy. Indeed, it will impact on how he thinks about his own sexuality. To think for a moment that boys can masturbate to these images and not be affected is to ignore how we, as social beings, learn what it means to be human from the cultural messages that surround us.

There isn't much immediately that i can take issue with here. I'm not sure what she means by "defenders of porn" because she doesn't offer any further explanation of that term. I can only assume she means the millions of viewers, both male and female, of the various porn outlets one can find on the Internet - but you and i both know that is not what she means. She means the MALE defenders of porn. I am a voracious consumer of pornography. I have been from a very early age, yet i can honestly say the material i have ingested no more shapes the way i think about women than it does the way i think about men. And if porn is the barometer by which both genders must be measured, i would say neither gender fairs well. Pornography as i experienced it wasn't rampantly available in my youth, like it is now, and yet, amongst my peers, i would say that the dark, twisted fantasies that i possess goes further than most men i know. What i mean to say is that the sexuality i developed and that has written every single one of these debaucherous posts arose without the benefit of an endless, at-my-fingertip source of illicit material. Put another way, getting rid of Internet-based porn (which is the main point the author is advocating for) will not make fewer monsters like myself.

From an early age boys are bombarded with messages about what it means to be a "real man," and any deviation from this leaves a boy open to humiliation and ridicule. As boys get older, there is tremendous peer pressure to look at porn since this is seen as a rite of passage into manhood. Just take a quick look at the enormously popular adolescent boy movies of Judd Apatow, or listen to Howard Stern, or play any bestselling video games, to see how porn use is seamlessly packaged as an integral part of being a man. The end result is that rather than developing a sexual identity that is authentic, affirming, and in keeping with their own developmental time clock, boys are bullied into a sexuality that is created by a bunch of predatory businessmen whose goal is to maximize profits, not nurture the wellbeing of our sons.

The first thought i have when i ponder this paragraph is that this author has chosen not to address the myriad options that exist in pornography directed at homosexual males. "...any deviation from this leaves a boy open to humiliation and ridicule." While i do not deny that boys are bombarded with messages that are meant to adhere ones actions to a specific form of masculinity, this author has chosen to imply that the only pornographic path one can take is that of a straight male's interest. Yet, much of what she criticizes as the portrayal of women in porn can be found in a similar role in gay porn: the bottom. You cannot chastise the way women are portrayed in pornography as justification for why an endless supply is harmful if you completely ignore the fact that men play both roles in homosexual theater.

After twenty years of traveling the country giving lectures on porn, I have spoken to thousands of men and while it is clear that not all are affected in the same way, affected they are. Remember, this is the generation that grew up with Internet porn, and unlike previous generations these boys and men have an unlimited supply to hardcore porn 24 hours a day.

Twenty years of traveling, and it hasn't occurred to her that our men are being affected by something other than an unlimited supply of hardcore porn? She sounds an awful lot like a reactionary, as someone who idealizes a time that once was. When was this ideal period where men valued women as equals and not as sexual objects to redeem their sexual conquests? In the modern era, women are being given thousands more opportunities to take active, producing roles in the porn that flows into this endless stream. Where is the outrage for the exploitation of women when there were no female producers, directors and owners of pornographic products?

These young men have become so accustomed to porn sex that some are disappointed by their own sexual performance. When they compare themselves to the male porn actors, who can sustain Viagra-fortified erections for long periods of time, the guys I talk to often admit to feeling like sexual losers, and worry that something is wrong with them. Adam grew up watching his father's porn and felt that "porn taught me all I know about sex. My parents never mentioned the word sex at home, and sex ed in school was a ... joke. I had this image of how great sex would be, both of us going at it for hours. So it was kind of a shock the way the real thing turned out..."

Trust me, even without millions of hours of racy footage displaying the sexual prowess of professional pornstars, boys feel like sexual losers. I do not mean to overlook the disappointment boys must experience when their own exploits do not match up to the virile beasts streaming to them in their bedrooms on their laptops, but this is a very weak argument. How many boys stand at the plate in Little League, having hundreds of hours of videotape of their favorite Major League slugger running through their head, only to strike out and be forced to chew on their own disappointment as they trudge back to the dugout? For all those young men who will never garner a multi-million dollar sports contract, should we protect them by limiting how many games are broadcast?

What troubles many of these young men most is that they need to pull up the porn images in their head in order to have an orgasm with their partner. They replay porn scenes in their minds, or think about having sex with their favorite porn star when they are with their partners. Dan was concerned about his sexual performance with women. He told me that "I can't get the pictures ... out of my head when having sex, and I am not really focusing on the girl but on the last scene I watched." I asked him if he thought porn had in any way affected his sexuality. He said, "I don't know. I started looking at porn before I had sex, so porn is pretty much how I learned about sex. It can be a kind of problem to think about porn as much as I do, especially when I'm with my girlfriend. It means I'm not really present with her. My head is somewhere else."

What troubles me is that this author has no attachment to what is really going on in a young man's head as he conjures up images in order to have an orgasm. We do not force ourselves to be aroused by what we see in pornography. It either touches our buttons or it doesn't. Just because i've seen thousands of scenes of two girls making out, doesn't mean that one day i give into this bombardment and suddenly find myself with a raging erection the next time Britney Spears makes out with Madonna. You either find that erotic or not.

She mentions concern for Dan who cites porn as the first and foremost way he learned about sex, but how is that fault of the creators of porn? Where are the parents in this young man's development? Why isn't she thrashing against the poor parenting that has allowed this young man to turn to a polished, for-profit media package for his "education"?

Lastly, what really irritates me is the notion that women are treated horribly in all of these hardcore scenarios, and that this only serves to reinforce the endless humiliation and degradation of women. Here's where she really misses the mark. For every scene where a girl is portrayed performing humiliating sexual acts that a boy gets aroused by, the girl is not the only one who is humiliated. There is also a degradation happening with the young man observing this.

If there is anything that has served as a single denominator in my sexual experiences, it is that the demons i force upon my willing, female partner are ones i must also grapple with. My bottom wrinkled her brow in consternation as to how anyone could gain pleasure out of divining bruises upon her fleshy buttocks, and i struggled from the opposite side of the same coin. How could i possibly enjoy such culturally-maligned practices? What kind of person does that make me? She was disturbed when my sexual fires got stoked after she pathetically whimpers for leniency. Later, when i paused, i was also troubled by this, and there needed to be a tremendous amount of soul-searching before i found peace.

Porn isn't the enemy. Just like any form of mass media, it is a tool that can be used as productively as one wishes. The enemy is an inability to critically question what you encounter. I would hope anyone who reads the posts on this site and takes issue with anything i've said would speak up. Otherwise, nothing i written is worth a single one of its words.

Friday, December 17, 2010

Matters undermind

I initially wrote this as a stream of conscious note on my iTouch while riding through the underground tunnels of my adopted hometown. There is part of me that wants to just publish it unedited, as the raw thoughts that streamed into my head during my performance of the socially acceptable role called a "commuter". This way, i can provide a view into my mind during a period of "normalcy" and day-to-day activity. But, i'm not even sure this is something the reader desires, nor do i necessarily think it is all that authentic.

Why would the reader really care about my thoughts during a period of routine banality? And even if they did, are these the only representation of my thoughts that i can offer? Admittedly, the forum for the words i publish here takes the shape of one that pursues the boundaries and landscapes of my sexuality, so it makes sense that the subject of any thesis i make should also resemble that same shape. But there are parts of me that wonders if this one-dimensional character has worn its welcome. Perhaps i've lived all i could through this web journal, and the authenticity resides elsewhere inaccessible to my readers.

With that said, i present to you the following, with as few edits as i could make to maintain authenticity:

I live a double life. I have two Twitter accounts. I have two separate Gmail accounts. The same with YouTube, DeviantArt, Facebook, Tumblr, MySpace, etc. On one vein, I maintain my public, identity-laced persona, never veering past the deviant line my mind constantly crosses. While the other sprays his sexual/physical avatar all over the place. It is the best example of arrested development I can think of. Yet, I can do little about this truncated existence. Society insists I remain closeted. (is it society's insistence or, perhaps, my own?)

Meanwhile, I'm taunted by those who have managed to broadcast a public, kinky representation of themselves and I have to wonder what penalty must they pay?

FetishKitsch - They are a genuine, intimate couple who have chosen to film their kinky, fetish-laden sexual escapades. For numerous reasons (their genuineness, their attractiveness, their passion, etc.), they have managed to make a living doing this, for the most part. This is not the bit that i covet. I do not wish to turn my play sessions with my girl into a commercial venture. I've made a few photos and one video, but have no plans to expand on these efforts. What attracts me to their level of openness is their geography. They do not live in fetish-friendly Germany, or even the tolerant environs of the U.K. (or even Canada). No, in fact, they live in the slow Mid West of the US of A. They have no compunction for revealing not only their sexual tastes, but their faces and their names (assuming they are not pseudonyms). I envy their liberated approach to exposing their sexuality. Some may look at my site and think i've done my own emancipation. However public i've been, you will never find my name/face associated with the identity known as "Deity".

Darenzia - She is a bona fide fetish model. She's stunning. She's modeled with some amazing beauties and for some amazing photographers. I adored her as skin candy through the various websites and periodicals i explored. It wasn't until i found her on Twitter that i developed an intellectual crush on her. I cannot recall how i came across her Twitter feed, but it has been an absolute thrill to behold. She has a rapier, sarcastic wit that doesn't quite fit the graceful elegance of her beauty - and that's what makes her all the more interesting. She talks shit about everyone. She knows how to use the medium of 140 characters to add pizazz into the world, all the while wishing you could personally witness the life she leads. In the time that i've been following her (as myself, not Deity), there has been no less than 40 times i've wanted to reply to something she posted. I recognize i run a little bit of a risk for my "professional" self to publicly declaring through the list of those i follow on Twitter that i keep track of the comings and goings of a riske, fetish model. The only explanation i can offer as to why i do it is that i've grown weary.

I'm tired of putting one face forward while concealing another. Next year will present me with my fourth year of authoring content through this site, via this Deity persona. There is a great deal of frustration in only being able to interact with a virtual audience, meanwhile living a life as someone my closest associates only know to a certain depth. I look at FetishKitsch and Darenzia and wonder what it would be like if i melded the two spheres. Would it turn out to be what i wanted, or were all the risks i drew up in my brain factual and not exaggerations.

Am I too safe? Too cautious? Perhaps too self-important. It's very hard to determine when to play it safe and when to let go.

Constantly hiding sucks. Especially if it's just rote and unnecessary. Should I risk it and put me and my girl's likeness out there just to say "Fuck this, I'm sick of hiding."? Or should I not take the bait and stay veiled?

I do not have so much hubris to believe my little web journal gets anywhere near the notice or traffic that FetishKitsch and Darenzia get, so it may not be all that much of a risk were i to take away the masks i keep on both my girl and i.

Lately however, those have not been the questions i've been pondering. As i face the end of another year, and think forward about the year to come, i wonder how much longer i will continue to give this persona and these black walls any more of my energy.

Sunday, October 31, 2010

The weight

If any of you ever met me outside of the context of this web journal, you might find me to be a very complex fella, complicated with all of my nuances and insistence on the specific way i must alter my environment in order for me to be comfortable. Largely, you wouldn't be wrong with this assessment - except, that is, when it comes to my fetishes. I do not share these with many people i know. Few people who interact with me on a daily basis know how much attention and time i am devoting to thinking about somehow fulfilling my various fetishes. If they did, they would see all those other complexities for what they are - ways to keep me from succumbing to the overpowering affect certain objects have over me.

In a previous post, i wrote about a little windfall of cash that had suddenly, surprisingly arrived into my life. After making sure to take care of all the important causes and people in my life with a portion of this sum, i allowed myself to indulge in purchases that i have been waiting over 10 years to execute. I'm happy to report, i am not dissatisfied in the slightest with the result. I no longer have to fantasize about these kinky implements, nor do i have their absence from my toy chest weighing down on me like a taunting bully.

I'm now ready to disclose what some of the items i got that can now be crossed of my wishlist (i can't list them all, because a few still haven't arrived, and my girl is unaware of what awaits her).

- A pair of black latex opera gloves from Libidex
- An Eroscillator, which is something i've coveted ever since the first time i saw PD using them on his Insex victims.
- And finally, after waiting over a decade, i am now in possession of my very own vacbed

The vacbed:

It is a thing of pure artistry. I ordered it from the amazing folks over at Kink Engineering. I do not get paid to endorse their products (how funny would that be), but i can say, once the device arrived in my house (and it couldn't come any faster), i knew i was in possession of some serious passion and craftsmanship. I ordered the standard lie down bed, with breathing tube. I had them construct the frame for me, and i insisted on the top sheet of latex being baby pink. As many of you may recall, pink and black is a motif that me and my girl often employ in our play. I like the softness of the pink, especially as it relates to turning her into my Barbi doll. And i like how the black contrasts that softness, making a much starker, bold statement.

The amazing thing about this bed, and the reason why i went with King Engineering, is that it has a one-way valve, which means once you suck all the air out of the bed, trapping your victim between two sheets of tight latex, you can turn your vacuum off. And what is left is silence. Pure, delicious, uninhibited silence. This is very important, because part of the point of a vacbed is to create an atmosphere of sensory deprivation. No sight, no touch, no taste, no sound.

For this session, to increase that, i had my girl place earplugs in before she climbed inside (this also helped with what she had reported on our first attempt with the bed of a strange sensation of pressure on her ears as the air was sucked out of the bed as well as the incredibly loud noise of the vacuum cleaner). Once trapped in a tight latex cocoon, i took out the Eroscillator.

I teased her with the device, running it up her rather ticklish sides. She was an immobile prey to my advances, unable to even lift her hand to bat away my prodding touches in her ribcage. I circled her tits, slowly swirling inward towards her nipples. I then traced down her belly, until i reach the trapped folds of her mons. Immediately, she responded, letting out a long, awaited moan of pleasure that came only through the black tube providing her air. I played with her cunt lips, through the tight layers of gentle pink latex. Her hips wanted to press up into the oscillating device, but couldn't. Ever so slightly, i ratcheted up the intensity, switching to each successively higher level. Her moans corresponded with the heightened sensations, growing longer, more vocal. I adored it.

Seeing that i'd reached the threshold for what the Eroscillator could do, i decided to employ a much higher caliber device: the Hitachi Wand. Her reaction to this was immediate. placing it on her thigh, the entombed doll knew just from the vibrations that i'd grabbed her favorite toy. She pleaded through her breathing tube for me to apply it to her moist mound.

"Does barbi want me to put this on her cunt?"

Urgent noises came from the black tube, filled with desire and anticipation. I granted her request and centered the head of the wand right on her gloriously trapped lips. She sizzled with excitement, grinding with as much limited motion as she could muster in her bondage. Ever so often, i'd move the wand away, only to be met with pathetic myews of regret at the sudden absence of stimulating vibrations. I'd ask the encapsulated dolly if she wanted the wand back.

"Barbi wants the wand? Hmmm? I can't understand barbi. I wanna hear barbi beg for the wand."

The poor thing urged for me to put the wand back where it was meant to be. I would re-apply it, only to lift it again from her swollen mound. After several rounds of this, i relented and let her grind against it repeatedly. Multiple minutes later, without any notice, i shut it off.

I left her there to sit in complete statis, allowing the sensations of her entrapment to work their magic. When i felt there had been enough incubating, i released her from the bed. It was my turn to use my toy.


Saturday, September 4, 2010

Dominating the conversation

Recently, i was lucky enough to have fallen into a tidy sum of money that i wasn't at all expecting. I'm not a wealthy individual, nor am i poor. I make a reasonable salary, and our home is one of a few, but blessed comforts. What this all means is that this money served as an extraneous, imposing presence that couldn't simply be ignored.

I immediately called up my young nieces, asking them what it was they wanted most of all, right there, right now. One giddily shrieked "an iPod!!!", while the other shyly offered that she might like to have a brand new bike. Done, i told them. They squealed with their girlish delight. What next? I carved out a sizable sum and sent it off to one of my girl's favorite charities. Still left with a meritorious amount, i asked my girl if her dress code accoutrement needed any refreshing. How were her corsets? Fine? Hmmmm. What about her heels? Any pair in desperate need of replacement? No, all perfectly suitable. Stockings? Yes, yes, there are definitely a few pairs that she could retire and put out of their misery. However, that only ate up a few simoleons. What to do?

And then, suddenly, the thought occurred to me: I might be able to retire a number of items from off of my fetish wish list.

I exercised restraint (although not much) and hastily ordered some items that i have personally been lusting over for easily a decade's time. But here's the rub, since placing the order, i have been unable to think of little else, pondering the workshop where these items would be made, the shelves on which they sat, ready to be shipped to me, waiting, prolonging their arrival. And it has been killing me.

I have written very little explicitly about my status as a fetishist. In fact, of the 300+ posts i've penned for this site, only five contain the word "fetishist". Only 25 carry the label of "fetish", as if it weren't all that an important facet of my sexuality, when in fact it makes up the bold lion's share. It plays such a large role in how i verbalize my sexual desire, that sometimes it makes me question how "dominant" i actually am.

lg comes to mind when i make a statement like that, because she has recently revealed her own fluidity with the power roles she plays in her relationship with her Daddy. She has always represented herself publicly as a submissive girl, looking to be controlled and contained. However, she uncovered a desire to take charge, and demand worship. I applaud her exploration and discovery. This isn't exactly what i'm referring to, however.

I have no interests in acting like the submissive bottom in my dynamic with my girl. I am absolutely the Top, but i'm not so certain how "dominant" i am due to the ways in which my various fetishes can immediately take control over me. I could be in complete command of my persona, walking along the city streets, confident, bee-lining to every corner, and *BAM!!!* out of the blue, a cute girl with long, fake nails could wander into my view. All other thoughts evacuate from my single rail mind, and all i can do is stare, salivate and pant after this display of manicured perfection. Am i in control in this situation? Absolutely not. My body has an involuntary reaction to such a sight. The same goes with a gal lacing into a corset, sliding on a latex garment, or pulling on a pair of fully-fashioned thigh highs. I cannot control the instant arousal that overflows my body.

I will say it right here that having fetishes is not exactly a wonderful thing. To be instantly upturned the moment the fetishized object comes into view not only makes for some awkward public moments, but once someone learns about your fetish, depending on the character of the person, they'll attempt to either control you with it or embarrass you. Neither situation is enjoyable. I'm not ashamed nor distraught that i have these highly developed fetishes, but they do serve as a limitation, which is precisely the same impetus that a submissive might encounter when boundaries and rules for themselves have been defined by their Dominant.

The longer i live my life in this so-called realm of SM, the more i find myself turning away from prescriptive words such as "Dominant" and "submissive". They don't fit the reality of my experience. Because, as someone who deals with myriad fetishes, even though my girl goes and gets her nails done every two weeks exactly as i require (a "Dominant" decision), their appearance in my day interrupts whatever it was i happened to be doing at the time (an act of submission, if i ever saw one). They pester me. They demand my attention. And once they get it, all i can do is sit transfixed, succumbing to the overflowing desire to rapidly reach an orgasm.

Saturday, August 28, 2010

In response to "Amanly"

This post continues to be something that i visit in my head as i try to contemplate what it means. Thus, when i tried to respond to the comments it got, i tended to ramble on and on, and apparently, Blogger thought i spoke too freely. The system refused to publish my response to all the great comments the post got.

So instead, i will publish my response in a post. I believe the discussion to be very, very fruitful.

What implications/outcomes do you believe stem out from a biological system where the male side of the species is constantly looking to spread its seed and the female side is constantly protecting its eggs? If indeed this is the system we operate under, there has to be some codified mechanisms that arise. I'd find a discussion that explores these mechanisms fascinating.

But, as a woman, do you feel these men constantly evaluating how much they'd like to use your body for their purposes? And if so, how does that feel? Or, do you tune it out?

Here's the thing that i'd love to hear your husband's take on it:

I don't think of having sex with other women - EVER

It's not that i don't allow myself to think of it out of ethical morals, it's that i do not desire sex with women. I desire to control and mold and shape them. So my interaction with strange women is instead of evaluating them on how fuckable they are, i tend to think of how much can i seduce/manipulate them to have them do what i want them to.

(There's a boatload of psychology raw material there, for sure)

For the record, i've spoken about this with other men, and the universal response to me telling them that i have no desire to have sex with random, beautiful women, is that i'm full of crap. That i'm merely holding a position that is different than others just to be contrarian. That isn't the case, unfortunately.

shape shifter,
I accept that the media holds a great deal of influence over the typical male's behavior (as it does the female's). But then, if that is the case, how did i escape that influence?

Well, i certainly don't exhibit high levels like i see in other men. Other men don't like to talk about problems they are having, emotions, etc. Whereas i can't STOP talking about those things - all of which is frequently categorized as a female/estrogen-laden activity.

Fair enough, social/group dynamics are at play, but why do those pressures not fall onto me?

Honestly, think about the number of movies that are out there of the young, coming-of-age boy who will toss everything away just to lose his virginity. He'll sleep with absolutely anyone who'll give it to him. I find - as much as we must allow the media influence us, we also must allow that the media are a reflection of us - that this attitude is quite prevalent amongst young men.

Here's the rub: I was in NO RUSH to lose my virginity. I turned down offers to give it away. They weren't right or desirable.

What's at play there?

Saturday, August 14, 2010


What a funny word. Doesn't quite look right, does it? Almost looks like a name, but alas, it is intentional. I'm about to embark on what i hope will be a therapeutic bloodletting, so please bear with me.

I'm not a man. At least, not based on the examples that i encounter on a daily basis. I'm something that approximates a man, edging towards one, but i fall quite short of the standard. I'm a fresh-faced, bright eyed man-child. Were those of you who read me on a semi-regular basis to meet me, you would find it hard to believe that the gender i choose for sexual copulation is that of the female. I've got fine features. I'm not demonstrably tall (in fact, without knowing why, i come off as a "small individual", even though i'm an average height for an adult man) and i'm athletically slim. I've an incredibly youthful appearance and my gesticulations tend to be passionate, overdone and loud - all of these accumulated traits have branded me with a character sketch, to those i encounter, as one who is a latent homosexual. Sadly, it would be easier in some respects if i were gay, because at least i might find myself beginning to fit into some well-defined world with rules and expectations.

Alas, that is not the case. I love girls. Adore them. Obsess, ache, and even starve for them. But as far as mimicking the behavior of my fellow man, that is where we depart.


Every regular man i've met, and have spent a reasonable amount of time around, wants to stick his cock into every single "attractive" female he encounters. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. They evaluate complete female strangers based on which "hole" they'd likely use, and what measures they would need to install in order to conceal the unattractive features that might make their conquest less enjoyable. I cannot stress how widespread and prevalent this attitude towards women is. Men who catcall, men who oggle, men who undress you in the five seconds it takes for you to walk by them - they all want to hump every single one of you.

And, this completely escapes and baffles me.

As a man, i get to witness the average male's true and honest behavior. But, rather than paint this behavior as abhorrent, i'd prefer to focus more on the difference it represents to my own. As far as i can remember, i've never seen another, unacquainted woman and want to take her to my/her bed (or behind the counter) - or even for that matter, women i know. Now, before this descends into the easy "Deity is a gentleman and a polite individual" track, i'd like to say that i'm not exactly sure why i don't have this normal reaction. I've been in situations where a typically benign, business meeting suddenly turns into an evaluation of the top 5 most attractive girls in the office, and who would each most likely fuck. I witness these assessments with a certain degree of awe, because these men are speaking in tongues in which i am not fluent. When the prattle makes its way around, and it's my turn to select which female officemate i'd like to put over the desk, i might as well be trying to explain to a French librarian what Danish cookbook i'm trying to locate - all the while speaking Japanese.

Like i said, this isn't a dissertation on how other men suck and Deity is the bestest of them all. Instead, it's a self-evaluation in the hopes of understanding what i'm lacking, and what they have versus what i don't got. I've discussed this with a few people, and most of them say that the majority of men learn this behavior - to mark any and all females as potential receptacles for their seed. That some imperative individual in their development explained to them that women - all women - are to be evaluated for their ability to get you off. But, honestly, i don't buy it. Surveying the cavalcade of men in my life who act in this fashion, i see that many of them did not grow up with a dedicated male role model (i.e dad was absent, uncles insufficient, etc.), which i think rules out cultural implications into this male norm. Therefore, with all the (unscientifically-derived) data facing me, i'm prepared to make a diagnosis:

- I'm severely lacking in some serious levels of testosterone that other men just get.

If this were true (which i'm sad to admit, it's likely not - this mystery will continue to go unsolved), simply ingesting a handful of supplements would set me on the right track to female objectification.

Wait a minute! Doesn't Deity already partake in an assortment of female objectification? Why, good man, you are correct. That objectification, reducing an intelligent, articulate woman into nothing but a vessel is quite different.

Or is it?

I ask this a bit rhetorically, but also a touch pejoratively. These behaviors my fellow men demonstrate cannot be seen as negative when you allow yourself to believe they are acting purely on instinct. And remember, they are only acting verbally, among other men. Most are not carrying out these behaviors they present as their desires.

I too have instincts or vices that do not appear socially acceptable. I have a skill for fabricating the truth - or to the layman - lying. From a very young age i realized that i could present someone with a false fact or tale quickly and believably. More importantly, i had no reservations pulling this off. No remorse. Whereas most people feel deeply guilty after doing this.

I have an innate talent for stealing. Also, from an early age, i realized i'm very good with my hands, and can conceal an object in them incredibly well. I also have strong observational skills, so i can examine my surroundings, determine if anyone is watching, and carefully make my way from somewhere with my loot even in plain sight.

Now, neither of these are all that attractive traits, and i'd be in an awful lot of trouble if i acted on them regularly. However, i have a way to dampen their impact on my daily behavior. I also didn't learn these behaviors. They came naturally to me. They are, for all intents and purposes, instincts. And just like the average male's instinct to mentally turn every pretty girl into a sex slave, they too aren't criminals for solely thinking this way.

I simply can't think like most men. And this fact makes living in a world as a man incredibly taxing and alienating from time to time. Because, let's face it, men suck, but thank goodness, so do women.