Sex and books.

As I trawled through a few select titles in a library, I couldn’t help catch a glimpse of an attractive lass reaching up to grab a book about drugs in society or some shit. I’m not really sure what it was because I was slightly distracted. As I pulled my attention back to the task at hand, finding a few books about the history of pornography, it came to me. I have finally discovered my major interest group. Sex and books. Sex and books! It’s that simple. And they both relate so closely together. Books are the origin of recorded thought that allowed our ancestors to pass on their ideas and thoughts to those younger than them and so forth as they inevitably march toward the disconnected youth of today. Sure, some of you may be thinking ‘Books? Man, I watch movies bro’ or something along those lines but let’s face it, books uphold that romantic notion of backbreaking effort to ensure it gets published and hopefully read. The histories of our world, the words of our preeminent wordsmiths, the musings of some stoned loner and the how to of basically everything you need to know are all held within a particular hard cover.

Not quite what I had in mind when I started writing this blog but still worthwhile reading… Am I right fellas?

Sex follows the same pattern. Sex represents our genesis, our motivation and our future. The fine art of seduction, the crushing disappointment that comes with the whole game and the desperation that surrounds the entire facade of finding one partner, two partners, countless partners. So as to not sound perverted, I am interested in the study of sex. Sexology. Rather than simply the act of sex. Which is still pretty good but you can go to any number of websites to get your rocks off if you want to discuss the ins and outs (pardon the pun) of the act…. Message me if you need details of these depraved websites.

The other thing about having these two things within your major interest group is that there are elements that I despise about the two. Some books are tasteless and unreadable, others are too graphic and some just don’t float my boat. There are also facets about the study of sex that are too gruesome and disturbing to even delve into. Also, many people are turned on by different things so understandably there are going to be major disparities between two different people, let alone a huge population. Certainly this makes it an intriguing discussion. One may be innately attracted to tall women whilst others convince themselves that they are not attracted to tall women due to the prevailing idea in certain cultures that men should always go for women shorter than them as to not emasculate themselves.  I’m also really against pornography that is too fleshy. I prefer the art house view of the whole encounter. You know, the motivation of the female against the motivation of the male. The desperate longing that the two, or maybe six, have had for each other. The ebbing and flowing, the temperature of the whole scenario coming out on screen. Alright, most of that is disturbingly analytical and essentially it is still the original sin that brings me to these smutty, smutty videos and images but at least I’m giving it some thought.

Let’s get off (come on, sexual puns are too easy) this tantric topic because I know my family read these posts and I’m sure they are already concerned with my overactive imagination. They probably think I’m still an incredibly frustrated virgin.

Well guess what family, I’ve had sex. At least twice. And it was great. Yeah. Serves you right for presuming things hey?!? Presume. It will make a priest sue me? That doesn’t quite roll off the tongue like ass (out of) u (&) me. You get my point. 

The study of sex has shown the innate differences between men and women. Men have stronger sexual impulses meaning they are more likely to cheat, altruism boosts our attractiveness toward others and laughter is the key to a woman’s heart  are all theories that have been studied or at least hypothesised. In conjunction with these studies comes them being put into action. Professional pick up artist could potentially be the most amusing job title you will ever receive but they are real and it holds a popular following. The reason it is so intriguing albeit rather shady, is that everyone has at one stage in their life has attempted to pick up a stranger or a friend with or without a template. Some people just get their hands dirty (I’m not even going to apologise anymore) and go for the glory whilst others have a calculated way to turn a seemingly innocuous conversation into pillow talk.

Hey, you get your good with your bad or your candlelit dinners with your sleazy pick up lines, it’s all part of the whole scene, right?

Now back on the old bookie wook, bookstores are the keeper of everything wonderful. The smell, the charming people, the couches, the whole browsing but never buying and thus allowing the store to fall into a dramatic financial downturn. Simply wonderful. I think bookstores attract a certain type. Whilst some like high fashion stores and others like hardware stores, there are those who just really like bookstores. The dorks, the geeks and well, to lean back into the sex bit of this write up, the guys and gals who have really thought about the best locations to pick up. Honestly, there is nothing more attractive than a person who can reel off a telling quote from Auden, Joyce or Fitzgerald in context. As I write this I must add that there is also nothing less attractive than a person who takes a loud and obnoxious phone call in a library.

But as much as talking about your love of books (to flash your indie fuckwit badge loud and proud – and dammit, be proud of it, you unshaven bastard!) to other people is fun and disgracefully elitist, it is the actual adventure of ducking into a book and being caught up in the words, the phrases and the sheer magnitude of being involved in someone else’s work. Months, years and even decades can be spent sculpting a novel or a book and you get to experience it firsthand. Sure, there are many that won’t capture an inkling of your interest but at least you know you can imagine, even hear, the person’s voice in every sentence and paragraph, every character and moment, every misanthropic observation or moving passage about unrequited love.

At the heart of it, all we really have are our words and our instincts. From there, the rest of the story can be stretched out, manipulated, hypothesised and glorified but the essence of the story exists in the fleshy middle. That is the beauty of both sex and books.

I also really like music and parks. But hey, sex and books has a really wonderful ring to it.  A really gory, delicious, wondrous ring to it.



  1. FYI, I saw the title and skipped right on over this post. I’m sure it was an excellent post but I’m not risking reading you even acknowledging that sex exists.

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