A Third Freudian Slip: Virgin on the Ridiculous

Continued from yesterday…unsurprisingly, there is a link between exhibitionism and the male artistic temperament. One of the motivations of exhibitionism is to confirm that yes, the genitals are still there and that we have them on our outside while women do…not. Much the same, as John Berger commented in Ways of Seeing, artists painted nudes almost exclusively for clubs of government officials, businessmen, etc., so after a defeat moral, crushing, both, or otherwise, a man could look at a painting of a gorgeous naked woman and be reminded, yes, he was still a man. Does this mean art can be a fetish? An expression of the subconscious? Or something else altogether?

In sadism, sexual satisfaction is based upon the humiliation of the sexual object. The old saying "You always hurt the one you love." I think I can be quite sadistic, because in my subconscious, I compare my once-flabby now-lean but not muscular body to those of larger men and my intelligence to the more accomplished wisdom of others. In some of my deepest fantasies, a weak man becomes strong by asserting his strength over…someone.

Now to get even more to the bone. I am afraid of sex. Not as much as I used to be, but the fear is still there. Hence today's post title is more than a clever rip-off of Caravan. I'm a healthy, sensitive, and admittedly well-liked man whom women find companionable. Shouldn't I be over my fears? Yet the idea of actually being in a room with a woman, stripped, revealed, ready to do what it is we both want (because I do want it) continues to fill me with trepidation. Freud's analysis led him to conclude that if a person gets into hysterics about sex, it is usually because they have an aversion to intellectually considering it, to the extended perceiving something so intimate and vital to our core needs. It's not that I have never seriously thought about sex, but I was brought up in a way where no guidance was given to me and further intellectual thought about the act was all on my own time. I never spoke with my parents about it too deeply and have only recently been informed about it more from friends I can have good conversations with. I've never even seen a whole pornographic film, much less read a nudie magazine! (Even Kat found this a sorry state of affairs.) Maybe someday I'll win moral champion of the year, but for right now, my mental inexperience, I know, is emotionally stunting, and the only way to get around it is to actively remove the block. I think the upside is that this has made me even more courteous and considerate of women, whom I already had enough respect for as it was, so by the time I finally have the opportunity, it will have to be with somebody who I have proven I can hold in high regard, and who hopefully feels the same for me.