Recently, quite by accident, I discovered a whole network of female bloggers who are either sex workers or just major sluts, but are also educated, intelligent, and really good writers. They write about anything ranging from their sexy encounters, reviews of porn or sex toys, to feminist issues. Of course, they all have a huge readership. A significant portion of their writing, though deep and interesting, is simply stroke material for a lot of their readers. Their comments pages look sort of like:
de beauvoir at 02:31
your post really highlights the dilemma of feminism in its current manifestation, and how it’s troubled by its roots in the seventies as essentially a white movement and in the eighties as being prudish and unrelateable. the question of the day is how explicit female sexuality is reconciled within feminism’s ungainly legacy.
HuNg guY at 02:33
I bet ur HAWT if ur in jersey lets meet so u can get a taste of sum reel fucking u kno wut Im talkin bout.
I doubt it bothers the bloggers too much, either. They are the ones putting themselves forth as a sexual commodity, and when it comes to sluts, they just want to feel like they are loved and appreciated, no matter how briefly or, um, disgustingly. The problem is, these bloggers can analyze all kinds of intellectual merits for their promiscuity, but most of the people they’re fucking don’t really appreciate their bright theories. The writing itself usually shows confused sympathies toward the subject, with the subject being themselves. Sort of like a movie that shows a rape scene in which you’re supposed to sympathize with the victim, but the camera shows lingering, sexualized shots of the person’s naked body. Often, they’re not sure if they want to be admired or exploited, and even when they write about their own tragic rape scenes, someone’s getting off on it.
It kind of reminds me of how Colin subscribes to a feed of highest rated YouTube and Google videos, and how a good portion of them are utterly boring clips of average to attractive teenage girls talking into cameras about their guinea pigs or bouncing around lip-synching to their favorite Gwen Stefani song. Basically, YouTube is a place for the saddest masturbators in the world. I’m sure it wasn’t the intention of these teenagers to become masturbation fodder for lonely, overweight men in their thirties. But hey, any love is better than no love at all, right?
