Love of my life

C-CHASING

“All I wanted was friendship, but your c-chasing got in the way.” Old cake now

But if all you wanted was friendship how did his c-chasing get in the way? Isn’t it possible to be friends with him at the same time he was c-chasing? Were you also c-chasing? I don’t mean c***ts but rather c**ks. Am I right? Write back soon.

A pleasure as always.

Cheerio!

HORNY GIRLS, OR: ON THE NATURE OF FEMALE LUST

“All I wanted was friendship, but your c-chasing got in the way.” Old cake now

I’ve been thinking about this bitch. What have I been thinking? I’ve been thinking about the nature of female lust. What have I been thinking about the nature of female lust? I’ve been thinking of how female lust differs from male lust. In other words, in what way are girls horny?

My first point relates to the bitcher’s claim that, while the male was c-chasing, she just wanted his friendship. A heterosexual male would never claim that. He would never say he just wanted to be friends with a female. For the male the human sexual divide is fundamental. He sees the female as a female. He is a sight-animal. He is smitten with female beauty. He wants to copulate with her, not be friends with her. For the female, however, it is different. But how is it different?

While the female experiences lust – indeed there is evidence to support the claim that the female is more deeply lustful than the male – her lust is not the same as that of the male. (We must distinguish between lust and love. While the two are often conjoined, here we are just talking about lust.) The female, unlike the male, is able to compartmentalize her friendship from her lust. This very fact distinguishes female lust from male lust. The two are not the same. So what is the content of female lust? What is the content of girls’ horniness? The answer might be found in their thought patterns while engaging in intercourse. So what are those thought patterns?

An answer might be found in Claire Dederer’s “Why Is It So Difficult for Women to Write about Sex”” (The Atlantic, March, 2014). By way of an attempt to answer that question Dederer asserts, “We can finally all agree that women want to have sex. But does that mean that we experience desire in the same way that men do?” She concludes that they do not. The first thing is the role of the mother. “If you’re writing a sex memoir,” Dederer points out, “you’ve got to forget about the existence of your mother – or the existence of anyone’s mother.” Okay, so what’s next?

What’s next for female lust is having rarified ideas about sex with references to people like the philosophers Foucault and Sontag (gulp). Having those ideas, she writes, “is easier than describing the experience with accuracy.” On the other hand, there is the penchant for “putting bold pronouncements at the center of those white-filled pages such as “Fuck me, yes, fuck me.'” But soon she comes to mock “the whole idea of shock tactics – and in the process calls attention to the way that women writing about sex automatically become flaunters of their own desire.” So how can they write about female lust while avoiding becoming flaunters of their own desire?

The horny female internalizes her desire, but with qualifications and elisions. “She’s having a desire,” Dederer writes, ” but she’s not sure she wants to be having that desire, and yet there’s nothing that can be done about it.” Further, not having sex, overthinking sex, can “swerve into unfamiliar interior spaces which could be mistaken for the embattled retreat of fierce female desire.” The lustful female never retreats from the given of her fierce desire.So what’s next?

After reflecting on how Erica Jong’s “Fear of Flying” showed women “how to leave, how to be free,” Dederer concludes: “I mentioned at the start that I am trying to write a memoir about sex, and finding it tough going. I don’t know how exactly how I’ll pull it off. I get frightened every time I sit down to write about something I did, or had done to me. To be honest, my mother, still very much alive, assumes a ghostly, accusatory form and haunts my desk whenever I start to describe, say, giving a blow job to that creepy hippie Malcolm in the patchouli-smelling van in 1984.” Malcolm? That patchouli-smelling van? Nonetheless, Dederer writes that she “settles into her work, trying to say precisely how I felt.” Go for it, Claire.

So there you go. We now know the difference between male and femae lust. We know what makes the girls horny. At least I think we do.

A pleasure as always,

Cheerio!

(AVATAR 69: “R.C.A.F. KAYOES A PROWLER”)