I have to wonder how much of being a john is in being a patron, and how much is in the mind.
I'm not oblivious enough to think that women bare themselves purely for the sake of beauty; nor am I jaded enough to think that SG is run purely for the money. But I'm enough of both of these things to guess that not everyone who joins is here for a loftier purpose than getting one's rocks or rivers off at the sight of flesh they don't have at their easy disposal.
I can only hope that this is not the norm.
Still, it does lead me to question where I sit in the spectrum. I'm inclined toward thinking that this question is a reflection of something larger. Of how we perceive ourselves, in spite of, or because of, the purpose that we serve to others. I know that at least to some degree my role here is as a source of funding: a small drop in the sustenance and enrichment of the women who provide some assurance to me that the world is ruled by other concepts of beauty than those that are dominant and more commonly portrayed. But in some way, does my appreciation feed the flow of anything more vital?
More importantly, does this question reflect a desire on my part to ignore what I do by looking at SG? Or does it reflect a deep, troubling need for such an act to have some lasting meaning?
I'm not beyond noticing that these questions themselves may be acts of arrogance. That they may be nothing more than a desparate attempt to be noticed and accepted by the greater whole -- the participation in which is something that still eludes me.
Regardless of its telos, aside from its nature and the nature of the participation in it that was intended, I suppose that SG is, for me, a touchstone.
For my conception of beauty.
For my understanding of role.
For my relations with others.
For establishing as real the touch of anonymous mutuality; for its dismissal as an attempt to justify my own desires, and to bury in denial the part that I play in this particular script.
It's not so different from life. Just more so.
I'm not oblivious enough to think that women bare themselves purely for the sake of beauty; nor am I jaded enough to think that SG is run purely for the money. But I'm enough of both of these things to guess that not everyone who joins is here for a loftier purpose than getting one's rocks or rivers off at the sight of flesh they don't have at their easy disposal.
I can only hope that this is not the norm.
Still, it does lead me to question where I sit in the spectrum. I'm inclined toward thinking that this question is a reflection of something larger. Of how we perceive ourselves, in spite of, or because of, the purpose that we serve to others. I know that at least to some degree my role here is as a source of funding: a small drop in the sustenance and enrichment of the women who provide some assurance to me that the world is ruled by other concepts of beauty than those that are dominant and more commonly portrayed. But in some way, does my appreciation feed the flow of anything more vital?
More importantly, does this question reflect a desire on my part to ignore what I do by looking at SG? Or does it reflect a deep, troubling need for such an act to have some lasting meaning?
I'm not beyond noticing that these questions themselves may be acts of arrogance. That they may be nothing more than a desparate attempt to be noticed and accepted by the greater whole -- the participation in which is something that still eludes me.
Regardless of its telos, aside from its nature and the nature of the participation in it that was intended, I suppose that SG is, for me, a touchstone.
For my conception of beauty.
For my understanding of role.
For my relations with others.
For establishing as real the touch of anonymous mutuality; for its dismissal as an attempt to justify my own desires, and to bury in denial the part that I play in this particular script.
It's not so different from life. Just more so.
32onefizzy:
I appreciate your comments in this thread.