It’s only Natural

Sex is a perfectly nature and acceptable instinct like eating, but how would you feel if you had to find someone to eat with every time you wanted a sandwich? Or call someone over to your house when you wanted a drink of water? I find it very inconvenient to partake in naturalities that demand a partner. I find it unnatural. Natural instinct: to hunt, to forage, to move from place to place. We can do all those things alone and that is why we are able to do these things without getting emotional strung out. Sex fosters an unhealthy dependency, a desperation to connect, merge, cooperate. I spent the first half of my life looking for a sexual vehicle in the form of the male species. Natural Instinct: to procreate. What percentage of accomplishments during that time can be linked to my desire for fornication? It seemed like sex was the door to the future, and attaining the Holy Grail of erotic plumbing would take me to a better place. After all, everybody else was looking for it.

If everyone is looking for something, you become convinced it’s worth pursuing, like making money. Our culture brainwashes us into thinking that we are sub-human if we don’t have a fornication partner. If that’s the case, why did Thomas Edison invent my vibrator? Natural Instinct: masturbation. “Oh, it’s just not the same thing.” scold my co-dependent friends. Really? Why not?

I used to think I was a prude. Men called me a “cock teaser” because I existed and often didn’t put out. Hey, I’m a woman! I’m supposed to have sex. It’s a perfectly natural instinct. Okay, fine, thank you, but I find it extremely tiresome, the whole relationship thing, the expectation, the demand that I take off my clothes and lay down and spread my legs. For what — a few moments of either bliss or disappointment followed by pillow talk, oysters, a movie? Are you kidding me? Sit in a movie next to a satiated blob, eat popcorn and watch glamorous famous people having fun and making money at my expense? Oysters, or any food stuff, on a tray. Grapes. That kind of thing. The candle. Soft music.


Please help me with this.

Personally, I have never found anyone in the world more attractive than myself. If that makes me a sociopathic narcissist, that’s rough but still better than wondering if your “fix” is going to call tomorrow, or take you to the World’s Fair.

“well,” you say, “sex is just an expression of affection, love, tenderness. It solidifies a relationship. It kills boredom. It’s better than talking.” I think people have sex because they’re dumb and they don’t want anyone else to know it. During sex, they just have to grunt a couple of times, that’s all, they don’t need to reveal their ignorance of current events or philosophical issues. They don’t need wit. If I could find a witty lover, I would change my tune, because wit is my aphrodesiac. I wish a man’s penis grew directly out of his forehead, connected to the frontal lobes of his brain instead of his limbic region.

I have been hearing strange noises in the night, here in the woods. A screeching, as though some animal is being tortured, or eaten. Come to find out, thanks to a friend of mine addicted to chewing tobacco, the sound comes from Racoons fucking.

Have you video-taped yourself in coitus? At least other animals have fur to half cover the activity. I think it best to pull the quilt covers up to one’s neck and go at it alone. Quickly. Then go have a sandwich, alone.


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