Monday, October 27, 2008
There are some things that are (by their nature) a bit difficult to discuss. Topics that cause a little uneasy squirming in mentioning. Orgasm is somewhere near the top of that list. The very word encourages a turning away of the gaze, and nervous shuffling of feet. But I found myself speaking (albeit in a somewhat obtuse manner) about orgasm and foreplay during a prolonged exchange of candor with a dear Friend, just yesterday. So, as is the natural course of things with Yours Truly, my mind continued on with an expanded consideration of the subject, today. And, bless your enduring and tolerant heart, you, My Darling Reader, are now confronted with the outfall of some of those considerations.
I have been, for quite a long time, bothered by, and even, with some regularity, aggravated by our world’s fascination with and propensity toward what we lump together under the heading of “Extreme Sport.” I am vexed by all of the expense that is funneled into … and all of the time, energies, and pre-occupation devoted to .. Bungee-cord jumping, sky-diving, snow-boarding, black-course ski slopes, running of the bulls … well, you catch my drift. I listen, with intense focus, to the interviews of participants as they breathlessly describe the orgasmic satisfaction achieved at the peak of their short-lived experience … and I have yet to be impressed. And, until the light of understanding began to glow in my conscious awareness, yesterday, I really dismissed my lousy attitude as just some individual, and yet-undiscovered, hang-up. But I now know what “the deal” is with me. I yearn for foreplay. Yep! That’s the whole story in a proverbial ‘nutshell.’
I am far more enchanted with and excited by the intercourse between the Performer on stage and their engaged and captivated Audience, than I am with the orgasmic applause at Performance’s conclusion. I savour a day of hand-holding and silly whisperings far more than the immediate and conclusive pinnacle of sexual climax. And no! … you may not dismiss this propensity as the natural consequence of three-score years of living. Nope! I have always known this preference as my own. But, until yesterday’s conversation, and today’s writing, I haven’t had the clarity of understanding or comfort in expression, necessary to express my preference. And, lucky you [smile], you get to be the first to be assailed with my opinion.
I clearly remember my tears and sense of wonderment and appreciation as I watched Red Skelton sharing moments of unstructured and spontaneous silliness with his adoring and readily included Audience. Though I always (including today) shed tears of loving admiration at close of each of Mr. Skelton’s performances … as he humbly and graciously thanked those who had granted him the honour of the time and attention shared … I never (before now) examined the “why” of my reaction. I dismissed it as just another example of my over-the-top predisposition to sensitivity. Today, I have a clearer understanding and appreciation of my values. I would live a life of unending foreplay. I would choose the sprinkling of moments of sweet sighs amidst a mist of consistent touches, kisses, messages, looks, giggles, brief dances, and playful comments … over the occasional happening of the wildly athletic sexual rodeo (though those will always have a welcome place in life’s repertoire.)
So, Dear patient Friend, there you have it. Yet another glimpse into the not-so-orthodox inner workings of your John-Michael. I do gratefully thank you for your generous enduring of my altogether personal openness. I accept that as a rich personal compliment ... and leave you with This.
(Note: If you have no success with the link above, I ask that you do your Self the favour of copying, and pasting ...
http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=Y_PIadFsvDk&feature=related . You will be glad.)
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