What's sexy

So, it’s my birthday today. Thank you. I’m…the meaning of life, the universe, and everything.  / I’m turning 42.  Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy? Anyone, anyone? Anyway, / I used to think sexy was Young & Beautiful. Perky, Oh Yeah, tight, firm, big here small there but now I know what’s up.

You want to know what’s really sexy? Truth. Freedom.  / Truth of who you are. Freedom from the bullshit. You know what I mean.  Alll the bullshit. Screw the bull shit. Fuck that shit.

Funny. When we say “screw this” or “fuck that” it means “have sex with” which is strange because why are we having sex with something we don’t like? 

Maybe: bc its an empowering transformation from “something I despise” to “something I desire!” I like it.

[trying it on:] Fuck war - I will have sex with war. Screw hypocrisy - hello, hypocrisy, I would like to do you. Fuck anxiety I hate anxiety  - sexy anxiety, I love the energy. That’s actually kind of great. It turns everything on its head. We can find equal pleasure and benefit in all the things: things we like and things we don’t, so now the whole world becomes an object of our ardor and desire, and that’s where the fun begins. 

Then we can add in solipsism–solipsism? The theory that if everything is in your head, then the self is all that can be known to exist-–so basically everything is you, All Is One kind of stuff, so now we are having sex with everything we like and don’t like and everything is us and so it’s just one big masterbatory existence. Yay! Pleasure party!

Let’s be real: no one can really know how to please you as much as you, so now that everything is you, you can walk around feeling turned on by everything– and if you’re everything, you’re god. 

“I am god, and I am hot.” Now we’re talking.

OoooOOOooo. What a fun game: Midus touch meets sexual magician: find all the things we don’t like and transform them: anger → ardor, sadness → sensuality, fear → fabulous, hate → hot.

Ok, let’s try it together: I’m on stage, it’s kinda scary. Someone in this audience might think I’m boring. I fear rejection, shame.

BTW Did you know that ringtail lemurs, very distant primate relatives of ours, will exclude a single member of their tribe who is sick or weak or is for some reason deemed unfit, they will actually form a circle excluding the weak one. Physical rejection. Forcing them to go it alone in the wilds of nature. They usually die of starvation. Or loneliness, I bet.

Primates are assholes. / So our fear of rejection runs deep - it’s not about emotions, it’s about survival.  / Ok, so I’m standing here, vulnerable to rejection, AKA death. But I don’t want death I want life! I want happiness, I want desire, so let’s transform that bullshit fear:

[asks someone in the audience] Ok, reject me. Ok, I ‘m having a reaction. Ok, I”m feeling those sensations in my body. It’s really uncomfortable. 

“Fuck you for rejecting me. Fuck these feelings I have” / I’m not going to have sex with you, but I am going to metaphorically have sex with my feelings. How do I do that?

I let them enter me. I feel them, let them in, they’re intense. But I don’t fight them.  My heart is beating, My breath tightens. I feel flushed, am I anxious? Aroused? Excited?

BTW Did you know that studies have shown that when experiencing physiological responses related to fear, people can mislabel those responses as romantic arousal? Fascinating study about a woman and a suspension bridge. Look it up. The point is: we usually don’t know how to properly relate to our feelings. Or never taught, I bet.

So we can choose! Do you want it to be fear or fascination? It’s your choice!

It’s just sensation! Let it in: It hurts but also kinda hurts good, the feels, it feels good to feel,  we’re alive, like taking off an ice pack, the flush, the blood the energy rushing in, from frozen to free, the “Yeaow! Ow! Fuck! Better…” 

Isn’t that what makes sex so great? Sensations that change, keep us on our toes, sometimes uncomfortable, painful pleasure, pleasurable-pleasure, release. Ahh, yes, relief. It grows again into tension, it’s too good, but if we keep letting it in, it cycles back on itself, an infinite loop of yes please. Tension and release.  It’s the point-counterpoint that makes it so yummy. 

That’s the other thing that makes sex so great: We are not in control – of anything. Our bodies, our minds, our hearts, where we are, who we are. Total freedom, total expression, who cares if we yelp or howl or scream or moan or kick or laugh or bite or punch or open so softly we might die. Who cares? We don’t care, we don’t care at all. We are gods and goddesses of good god yes;, we are filled and flowing with pleasure power. 

Nothing can touch us we touch everything we ARE everything, whether we like it or not, fuck that, which means fuck yes, everything fuel and fodder for our continued arousal, the whole world is us, everything fuckable, we are everything, we are fuckable, any resistance we just stick into our hearts, or pussies, or whatever you have, transmute it all into good old fashion ecstacy —

No matter how old we are.

That’s what’s up. 

To take hate and grief and scorn and fear and eat them chew them digest them suck them dry, mere playthings, if it’s all play then we’re powerful and if we’re powerful we’re free and freedom is sexy and that’s the truth.