Hey Levenson: Why don't women watch porn? - Jeremiah, Omemee, Ontario

Dear Jeremiah,

I'm pretty sure that, assuming women like sex approximately as much as we do, they definitely don't appreciate it in quite the same way that we do. I'm just riffing, here – I don't actually have any idea what women like – but I have learned that it's not me, and it's not in the bathroom at the Cheesecake Factory. 

Check this out: Apparently, they give a shit who's screwing 'em! This extends somewhat into their fantasy realm. So like, watching two ass-pimpled randos bone down in an Econoline isn't the biggest turn-on. Women are always putting on airs for this type of shit. Here's the diametrical opposition: I'm pretty much ready to jump in on that scene at any time, so long as I don't have to touch dicks/make eye contact. What can I tell you? I'm a socialist.

But back to the nothing I know: I'd like to reiterate that I have absolutely no idea how much or how little women are interested in sex, or how to empirically quantify the female curiosity for sex versus the male curiosity (or “pathological compulsion,” whatevz) – the only thing I know for sure is this: If you think they like it as much as we do, how come none of 'em have started a cult? You get me? You never find Koresh or any of those dudes designing an Intergalactic Christ flag, writing the space bible, and deciding that the first covenant is that they're celibate. Right? He who announces his own prophetship rarely decrees, as a second commandment, that they're also totally cool with just jerking it. 

They did it for sex! They're banging whole families! They're banging whole towns!  he Kool-Aid and hand grenades are just, like, part of the drag, man! Bourdain didn't come here to wear the chef's hat, you understand? Meanwhile, this is a major coup for your average compulsive jerker. It's a cliché, but – there's nothing like getting called a four-eyed freak to start you drafting up a polygamous pantheistic suicide death-sect. Fuck it, man – I'm 20/20 left and right, and I've been known to hit the chick at the coffee shop with my plasma-volcano creation myth.

What's the worst that can happen? She buys it? Sounds like a real meshuguna, but she'll be outta my hair for most of the day, selling tulips at the airport...

What's better than roses on your piano, man? You following? This is, more or less, what it is to be a man.

Now, me myself, I live about eight percent of all that – mostly just the paranoia/dressing in your pajamas part – 'cause I've got all this shitty ethical-morality stuff weighing me down. It's a little bit of a bummer to try to brainwash/mind control chicks into your own cabalistic super harem, so I'm trying to take it easy on that stuff. These days, if you catch me at the health food place, I'm trying to break the ice with girls by asking them where the napkins are, then quickly going outside to hyperventilate. But make no mistake: In my mind, I'd incarcerate them all in a self-selected plantation of blowjob fuck slaves. I guess that sucks.

Nietzsche once wrote quite a poignant line: “Man is for woman a means: The purpose is always the child.” It's interesting, 'cause I think my purpose is hosing jizz all over everyone's face. What's my means? Cool sunglasses? Why am I really here? Can you blame god for not getting back to me? Right here in reality, I've never had one pure feeling of admiration or affection for a woman that wasn't accompanied by some kind of Homeric “sex gulag” A-plot. What do they need a movie for?

Action,

Levenson

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