Jul 132013
 

I’m not a big fan of nudity.

Don’t get me wrong: I think a naked body (male or female) is a thing of beauty, and I like to look at them.

But a nude body rarely excites me.

No. What excites me is mystery, revelation, obscurity, discovery, confiding, intimacy.

There are, I think, two aspects to this preference: first, there’s the principle of scarcity.

If you show everyone your nude body, then, when you show it for me, the gift has been devalued. (Not in the “women’s honor” sense, not that you’ve diminished your value, but that you’ve denied me the specialness of what I’m getting.) This is, I think, the same principle at stake in the reaction I had to Mary-Anne’s afternoon gangbang.

And second, there’s the related principle of unattainability.

Strip clubs have a three-step formula. A woman comes on stage and dances, clothed, for the first song. For the second song, she generally is topless. And for the third, she’s nude (or in panties). I’d just as soon two rather than three sets be the standard. Still, this formula plays to my taste, albeit crudely, quickly, and imperfectly. (Gauzy gowns and transparent 6” heels do nothing for me. Give me jeans and a t-shirt and Converse hi-tops or Chuck Taylors any day, please. Or a sundress. Or leggings. And while I want to see the dancers’ breasts, and maybe pussy, I want that to be glimpses, not a full-on revelation.)

I think I’m somewhat alone (or at least, unusual) in my tastes. Occasionally, a distant buddy will send me a fully nude picture, maybe a picture of her pussy, or her breasts. Don’t get me wrong. I love pussy. I love breasts. But what I love touching, licking, sucking, fucking is different than what I want to see, whether in two dimensions or three. (And here, too, I think I’d rather finger you while you’re wearing panties, squeeze your nipples through your t-shirt, under your t-shirt; fuck you with your skirt up over your hips, with your jeans down around your knees.)

What I want to see is revelation. I want to see a glimpse of your nipple after having been denied it. I want to see you touch your pussy, but maybe even not to see it. Not always, of course: sometimes, I might want to see your nude body, fully revealed to me. But then, what turns me on is that it’s unusual, and that it’s delivered at my request. Without those two aspects, it won’t get me hard.

Desire, for me, thrives on the not getting. Nudity delivers all, and so doing, often renders (my) desire quiescent.

  One Response to “Cultural sexual hegemony and me, #2 – Nudity”

  1. yeah. learned the hard way 😉

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