Tearing Down the Wall

Posted: May 8, 2012 in Uncategorized

Orgasm.

Odds are, your existence began with one. If not, then maybe that’s why your parents don’t really make a big deal out of your birthday. Then there’s a decade or so of ignorance on the subject, and then it becomes a point of contention. The male side of the species is desperately unable to think of anything else for years and years while the female side of the species has to weigh their own hormonal desire for the same with the dramatic consequences that can arise afterwards. It’s the last real rite of passage left in homogenized urban society, and as such is treated with the appropriate reverence one would give to such a concept.

Altogether mysterious and uninteresting, the orgasm is much like a magic trick. Once somebody explains to you how it works, a bit of the magic and allure dies off. Hence, romanticism. Hence, veils. Hence, lingerie. And for men, hence frustration. Though ultimately it is the frustration that so many crave. For as much as men will tell you they are creatures of instant gratification, it is the hunt they desire most, the intricate movements on a chessboard built with sexual tension, and the bizarre blend of vulnerability and confidence that develops behind a bedroom door.

All of this brings us to the goings-on of your typical Saturday night. Your bars, your clubs, your parties, even your main street window shopping. All of it ploys to bring singles slightly out of their own comfort bubble in hopes of wandering inside another’s.

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