Last night I was reading a little bit about Anais Nin. Today she is someone who would fit in well with what Roissy refers to as the “urban slut machine”. At one time in my life such a woman would have fascinated me for a sexual encounter: attractive, promiscuous, seemingly open to just about anything. She apparently even had incestuous sex with her own father. She had many lovers, including Henry Miller. Together they penned some pornography. She is one of the first female writers of erotica. So in many respects she was a precursor to the sexual revolution that was to happen a few decades after her own sexual prime.

I can imagine how every guy who came into contact with her, and knew about her sexual openness, would have wanted to bed her. If nothing more than for the conquest. I wonder what kind of person she was though. How tortured? What was her level of happiness? What were those moments like after someone had sex with her? Was she distant, bitchy, angry, or overly needy, like some many of the women I have slept with. Often there is such unhappiness lurking beneath the surface of sexual freedom. The fact that she was abused and abandoned by her father seems irrelevant to those who want to delight in her sexual exploits. When reading about her last night I could not help but wonder how many tears she shed as child after her father left her. There must have been tremendous pain and sadness throughout her entire life.

I have also been doing a lot of reading on the true nature of the porn industry lately. Like the proverbial sausage making plant, you do not want to really know what goes into the product you are viewing. It is not pretty. It is also mostly a gigantic lie. In many ways it is an industry that feeds off of the troubled women who make the pictures and movies and the addicted men who watch them. Reading some of the details of how these movies are actually made is a great deterrent to ever watching them again. When Miller wrote his Tropic of Cancer porn was very much an underground phenomenon. The book at the time caused quite a stir. Today it seems hopelessly innocent compared to what is out there. Yet there is a connection, a growth, between what he wrote back then and what is out there today. The common denominator in all of it are the lives of the troubled people who either produce or participate in this industry, in whatever form it may take.

As a man I know all too well the allure of porn. It once seemed like a harmless, exciting form of entertainment. But learning more about what goes on in the porn industry makes it easier for me to stay away from it. The abused, addicted, broken women and the sad consumers are only the beginning. There is too much darkness in the whole thing for me.

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