In the week or so that I’ve been away (soz for my virtual absence babes, but I do have a job and last week it struck me that if I didn’t do some proper job-related work my boss might notice; which would leave me without money to buy food, heat, shelter and other assorted tedious but essential-for-staying-alive type items that fat-eyed rich people sell for a profit in the cruel contemporary world*. I’m sure you understand) I have had time to ponder things. And the things I’ve been pondering have, in tune with the spirit of the times, been rather sexual in nature (I’m not gonna go too x-rated here, but I should probably put in a warning: I will be discussing fish porn – but not until the 11th paragraph – brace yourself).
As you may well be aware, if you don’t live huddled beneath a massive rock with your eye sockets and earlobes plugged with dirt, there’s been a recent hoo-ha about a trilogy of raunchy novels, the first of which is called Fifty Shades of Grey.
Now, I’m not going to offer a review of the trilogy here. Largely because I haven’t read any of the books and don’t intend to. But also because there’re already far too many bloggers offering witty and hilarious opinion pieces on this literary phenomenon. You don’t need another, trust. Suffice to say: some people think it’s poorly written, misogynistic shite; some other people think it’s the next best thing to getting properly fucked and find themselves aroused to the point of orgasm by reading the words on the book’s pages. Anyway, I bring it up here only because all this talk about female fantasy has coincided with me pondering my own sexuality. And when I say pondering what I actually mean is worrying obsessively.
I’m not sure I’m normal.
Seriously. I think I might be broken, sexually.
Other, ‘normal’ people get aroused by conventional human interaction. These normal people, or so they tell me, find that sometimes when conversing with an acquaintance or a stranger – at a party say or a work training seminar – a shudder of lust will run through their body alerting them to the fact that they want to engage in sexual relations with said stranger or acquaintance. This used to happen to me so I know the normal people aren’t lying – but… listen – it feels a bit like coming out to say this, so I need your support readers *takes deep breath*: it has been a very long time indeed since the sight of a stranger (or an acquaintance) made me all feel alert, aroused and available. I’m talking years rather than months here. Don’t judge me will you (at least not ‘til the fish bit)?
Of course, as regular visitors to the blog will know, the fact of being unconventional doesn’t usually bother me very much per se. Except this time it does, because I remember that sexual attraction used to be fun. It was thrilling and the potential of it occurring at any given moment made leaving the house a worthwhile pursuit, rather than a fag that involves getting dressed and engaging in interactions that will make me feel one or a combination of the following emotions: bored, stressed, irritated, empty inside.
Until I began to examine my sexuality in more detail I had put this lack of desire for other people down to getting older and wiser. I assumed that my sexual palate becoming honed would inevitably result in a more selective libido. However, there’s a difference between being selective and totally failing to feel a basic, animal instinct. Plus, at 6.40am the other morning I was woken by a text message from an old school friend who is currently having a fling with some bloke she met at work; the message alerted me to the fact that other women of my age and experience do still have sexual feelings. In the interests of humour I’ve posted the contents of the text message below.
“That guy showered in front of me last night…Katie OMG he is sooo hot!! It’s the most erotic live image I have seen EVER! He could be a calendar model!”
The other thing that’s been worrying me a large amount re: my sexual desire, is the fact that certain erotica do still get me off. Those black and white photos of a PVC clad leg with the foot in a stiletto that I saw at an art gallery a while back, the scent of cologne and cigarettes on the wind. But not what my friend would call ‘live’ images. Apart from one. The most disturbing erotic image of all time. Namely, the tail of my goldfish caught in an undulating motion as it turned in its tank.
Yes, you did understand that last sentence correctly. The most aroused I’ve been in the past two years was in my office watching my three-inch pet fish hunt for food in murky water. I don’t know what this says about me, but it can’t be anything good. Or so I thought, until yesterday afternoon.
I had kept the fish thing a bit quiet, for obvious reasons. Telling only 150 or so of my closest friends via a facebook status update around the time it happened. And then, idly flicking through twitter, I came across a link to this. A Wikipedia entry detailing the erotic ukiyo-e Japanese woodcarving ‘The Dream of the Fisherman’s Wife’. In which the wife gets orally pleasured by a massive octopus while the octopus’s son plays with her boobies.
I can’t possibly describe the relief I felt in words. Though if I were to have a go I’d probably compare my shame to the air in a balloon and the viewing of the woodcarving to a pin that burst the balloon and allowed the shame to escape and dissolve into the atmosphere. I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE! People have been fantasizing about fish for millennia; I am part of a long tradition of slightly messed up, sensuous fish-lovers! There’s nothing wrong with me!
I’m not saying I want to get pleasured by an octopus, before anyone calls the RSPCA. But I am relieved to find that whatever is left of my desire is still human. I know that lust exists; that it does still burn there inside my body. And, as a bonus, there’s a great big archive of online fish porn that I can use to indulge my fantasies, guilt free, until such a time as I am ready to have sex with humans again. For this Japanese erotica, I am thankful.
And, in case you thought I was being totally self-indulgent, I have considered my readers here. Now that you know about fish porn there’s another reason to be single. Everyone’s a winner.
*And on this theme, I’ve decided to cut back on blogging for a bit so that I can write my thesis and hopefully someday graduate as a Dr and become one of the fat-eyed rich people myself. Thus I will now be posting here only once weekly. How will you cope? That’s not really my concern, but you could indulge in some re-heated lols by searching through my archives (ooh-er!).