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An excerpt from a romance novel of the future.

November 12, 2007

The Raging Heart Willyum SexPeer.

The night was still young; the clear black firmament, dotted with a thousand twinkling objects. The moon was conspicuous in its absence; and since there wasn’t even a whisper of a cloud Jane was pretty sure that it wasn’t just hiding somewhere. A few moments later she realised that it was a no-moon night, and she was quite annoyed at herself for being slow on the uptake with respect to the fact. She left the bedroom door open to allow the cool gentle breeze to waft in and watched as the curtains of the doors became pneumatic and drifted into the room with gay abandon and bounciness. Realising that Max would be here any minute, she quickly got into bed, making sure that the sheets looked naturally untidy and a bit crumpled. She then closed her eyes and proceeded to put a dreamy and blissful expression on her face. .….. (In the interest of brevity, we have omitted two passages and have taken the liberty of proceeding directly to the ‘meatier’ parts, which are significantly more germane to the issue of elucidating the nature and style of romance writing in the not-so-distant future) ….. There she lay, almost naked and bashful under Max’s gaze. He surveyed her, with hunger in his heart and saliva wetting his mouth as his gaze shifted lazily from one feature to the next of her perfectly sculpted body; it had a curvaceous topography with a quality of seamlessness to it. What he was experiencing was something that could be best described by a pedestrian and aesthetically unappealing expression: he felt horny. Max soon realised with a sense of irritation that there were pressing matters to be dealt with first. This was the first time that he had come across a 128-bit encryption chastity belt. Cracking the security on this one would require luck as well as ingenuity, he thought. Jane meanwhile looked on with playful amusement at Max, who was tinkering furiously with the controls of the chastity belt and simultaneously running a decryption algorithm on his personal computer. The wearing of the contraption had been motivated by Jane’s desire to infuse an air of teasing naughtiness and novelty into something that would otherwise have been a highly predictable episode. The sense of urgency evident on his face and the eagerness with which he went about this task made her feel wanted. After about a minute or so Max let out a jubilant cry; he had succeeded in his task. .….. Max went about kissing her supple body with near-surgical mastery, but his mind was not free from the doubts and questions that usually plagued him on occasions such as these. They had known each other for three months now and this was already not the first such encounter between them. Why did some people subscribe to the notion that sex was somehow a natural act of a ‘certain kind’ of love or that it was a natural progression of it? Why could these people not understand that love and the manifestations of sexual desire were two at-times-intertwined yet distinct threads? Why was not this dichotomy evident to people, who instead thought of the matter as involving a different genre of love altogether? This irrational and forced mixing of love and its manifestations with the act of sex disturbed Max greatly. He of course understood why such views were still largely prevalent in society: they were attributable to chronic ignorance, coupled with a thinking trapped within aesthetics. The latter was deep seated in the psychology of people; it would find its roots in the large scale permeation of aesthetical notions, of those things in their culture which betrayed their organism. It was the kind of thinking that was aimed at burying uncomfortable allusions to the animal, to the machine. Aesthetics would usher in a sophisticated way of being, which would establish our superiority over the brute. Max himself had often sought refuge in this structure of aesthetics; indeed all of us have done so. A lot of this structure wasn’t unacceptable to him. After all if someone was to excuse himself to use the toilet he could say so in that way, he wouldn’t need to say that he wanted to go shit himself. A girl wouldn’t have to refer to her period as ‘a time of menstruating’. Indeed in these cases there would be no need to invoke bodily and unaesthetic imagery in the mind of the listening audience since the usage of indirect terminology would suffice in making clear what was implied and there would be little or no ambiguity, and certainly no subterfuge. The terminologies pertaining to physical relations and sex however disturbed him considerably as there was definite subterfuge involved in allusions to the act, which had created rosy delusions among people. ‘Romantic love’, ‘in love’, ‘making love’, ‘lovers’, ‘physical love’; ‘love life’–each of these terms was fraught with contradictions and inconsistencies. Clearly love itself was a complex set of attributes. The mysteries of love, even after so many centuries of human history, still weren’t unlocked completely–and not because of not trying, one might add. Love was used in so many contexts, and was sometimes used to imply sensorial pleasure rather than something emotional. An instance of such usage: the statement I love food. Such usage would only serve to cause more obfuscation as far as the understanding of love was concerned. Experience told us that love for someone (or something) would subsume experiences such as concerns for their well-being, feelings of affection towards them, the desire to see them happy, and the feeling of happiness or joy experienced by the one that loved. But what was the one thing missing in the other loves but present in this romantic love?  Clearly the elements of physical and/or sexual desire; romantic love couldn’t exist in someones mind, or between two (or more) people, without this defining element. Naming the phenomenon romantic love was the first step in the direction of obfuscation: by calling it so, the implication was that it was a different type of love, as opposed to the truth, that it was a complex amalgamation of two fundamentally different forces–love and sexuality. How come, wondered Max, no one felt the need to allude to friends’ love of one another by the use of special or vague terminology? The answer again was to do with aesthetics. In the case of friends, the aesthetics–of purity, of the un-mechanical, of unselfish behaviour and self-sacrifice–that the emotion of love stood for, had already been attained. There was no need to use any other expression that symbolised purity or unselfishness, as this had already been established by the fact of their love for one another. But love coupled with sexual desire would change the situation drastically. Now one would have to worry about foreplay and blood-filled genitalia and secretion of body fluids and erect penises being thrust in and out of vaginas. Thus a need to borrow the aesthetic of love would become paramount, so as to not allude to such imagery; the animal, the machine, must be concealed under a beautiful veil. But that was exactly what Max had a problem with. The adherence to aesthetics must not come at the cost of subverting the truth. The eschewing of ugliness is acceptable, but what shouldn’t be acceptable is the replacement of something by a beautiful delusion. Where lies the danger, one could ask? The problem lies in deception. It lies in delusion. It lies in the fact that bad things often happen when one subverts the truth about something. To think of semen as a sort of “love-juice”, unless of course is being ironic, is a deception and a delusion; and calling a spade a watermelon leads only to problems. The reason that an abridged version of these thoughts reverberated in Max’s mind when he was with Jane was because, although she had a streak of sexual naughtiness in her, a large part of her was steeped in these dangerous aesthetical notions. This had often left him in a dilemma- should he alter his natural ‘love-making’ style to match her conceptions of the act? For this purpose, Max had sometimes toyed with inventing the concept of the number of thrusts per minute (TPM). A lower TPM uniformly distributed throughout the entire duration of the act interspersed with some tender kissing and sweet utterances, even though not fitting his notion of maintaining or increasing pleasure, would simulate the romantic experience that Jane wanted. Of course a very low TPM would prove to be problematic; the abnegation of pleasure would become torture for both parties. Furthermore, both parties would have to deal with farcical imagery akin to that of a precious lance being kept in a safe deposit box. So optimisation clearly was the key word. Many of Max’s friends had at first vehemently opposed his view about sex being an act of desire and not love. Some of them would argue that this could not be the case as the sex had felt different when they had been in a loving relationship. Max would then explain to them that love had the propensity to alter the overall feeling and complexion of the act. Love could ensure that the sex happened in the liberating atmosphere of trust and security. Love could bring about a certain gentleness to intercourse; it could make the act more temperate. But the crucial detail was that when the want for sex was mutual, Love during intercourse was generally the more passive onlooker while Desire displayed its dominance. Love waited in the shadows for Desire to be extinguished, yet Love may have been gracious beforehand in lending some aestheticism to Desire. Max often gave people the following analogy to substantiate his point- Imagine two people who love each other playing chess. Now the fact that they love each other may change the overall experience of the game. It may alter the competitive spirit, the will to maintain a reputation or perhaps even the importance of winning. But the rules of chess would remain the same. The game of chess would not in any way incorporate love into its nature. Love would always remain extrinsic to chess. ….. Jane watched with eager anticipation as Max put on his condom. The breeze from the outside that pervaded the room caused his manhood to sway gently. Max later regretted using a lubrication coefficient of 2.5; it had proved to be on the lower side. He detested even the slightest squeakiness. End.

One Comment
  1. I found your site on technorati and read a few of your other posts. Keep up the good work. I just added your RSS feed to my Google News Reader. Looking forward to reading more from you down the road!

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