I find it interesting that a women's writing web site that has over 15,000 users has not one user group dedicated to romance or erotic literature. Is it that women do not want to read about sex? Is it because feminist writers find pornography offensive? Is it that “true” writers don’t consider this type of literature legitimate? If erotica isn’t popular, why are three of the top five books on the New York Times best sellers list about BDSM? I have not read any of the “Shades of Grey” books, yet I am thrilled to see us coming out of the sexual straight jacket we have been ascribed. Obviously romance is a huge market and from what I have read the Grey books are fairly tame and accessible to a wide audience. I pray this brings us all back into the joy of what it feels like to be mature.
I long for a time when more people act like adults, read adult books, and have adult relationships. Everything that is mass marketed to us has to be watered down for a teen audience. The entire country has become teenitized (yes my word) to a similar common denominator in literature, music and film. I have no desire to read young adult fiction and fantasize about vampires. I don’t care about adolescent post- apocalyptic survival. I’m fed up with pop tarts singing about their boyfriends in blue hair and edible clothing.
Adolescence is a death sentence. It is the death row of humanity. It is temporary, certifiable insanity that I never want to re-live. The teenage brain is nothing but that of a mental patient, salivating for things that they cannot identify, or understand. Why are so many people hell bent on staying there?
I’ve met many a man and woman with a serious case of Peter Pan Syndrome. I find this behavior reprehensible. I try and be diplomatic, yet all of the insanity remains there as well. I struggle to understand people who have fallen victim to this mysterious affliction called permanent suspended adolescence.
Being an adult is joyful. You have made it through the great Darwinian challenge and have proven yourself worthy. This life is yours now and yours alone to make what you will. You should run away from everything you know with reckless abandon and seek out the truth. I wanted nothing more than to be a grown up when I was an adolescent. This is why I am so confused by adult desires to stay young forever. I cannot imagine living with my parents. I would rather be homeless.
One of the most pleasurable things about being an adult is sex. Teenagers are just fumbling around in the dark or trying to find a place to sneak away. As a girl, I quickly tired of the fumbling, stumbling, chasing, running, faking. I made a concerted effort to find older boys. They were not yet men, but no longer fumbling. I enjoyed their apartments and disposable incomes. I liked boys who knew about gourmet food and pornography; Boys who rode motorcycles and threw fabulous parties with hot tubs and drugs. Why hang around a keg with a plastic cup in your hand, when you could be at a mansion on Summit Avenue drinking gimlets and playing billiards? Life is short.
I realize now that all of this behavior was risky, illegal and debauched. I think I was trying to get all my Darwin tests over as soon as possible. As I aged, the boys started catching up. They didn’t become my intellectual equal by any means, but their ability to understand complex concepts and hold meaningful conversations increased. I was able to start dating men only one year older instead of six years older. What a nice surprise. I enjoyed the fact that these quasi-men never tried to tie me down. They never once talked about marriage, a concept I abhorred. They shuddered to think of what I was doing over in Europe while they were stuck at home. I suppose they secretly wished I wasn’t going anywhere. Wild Horses cannot be broken right? At least that is what I thought.
A bird in the bush is twice as nice. Don’t believe their lies.
Always your girl