Pleasurists #79

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A sheltered potential

I was seriously intellectually sheltered as a kid. I was... gifted, so my parents made sure I never really knew that there could be limits on what a person was good at, could excel at. Academically, mentally, I never hit a brick wall as a child. Ever. No matter what task they set me, I just did it, because it never occurred to me that I might not be able to work my way through. It was never a question of can't. It was a question of do I have the time, and the motivation, to fight my way through on this problem, or is there another one I want to spend that time on?

Yeah, I was sheltered. I thought everyone was like me. I really, honestly believed that ANYONE could get themselves anywhere, academically speaking, if they just worked hard enough, tried hard and long enough. I thought that, as it was with me, that it was just a matter of effort. The concept of actually failing an exam, much less a course, boggled my mind.

I was such an idealist. And like all idealist, when I had to face how different the world was from the way I saw it, it hurt. It really, really hurt.

I had to face that not everyone is as smart or dedicated as the kids I grew up with, that not everyone can get to grad school or med school or law school if they just try hard enough. I had to face the fact that some people really are smarter (book-wise) than others, that it's not a matter of effort.

Maybe I care about people too much, but I've never gotten over how much it hurt to have that view of the human race shattered. Especially when breaking it involved watching best friends, respected colleagues, and the man I love beat their heads against classes that they just couldn't pass, no matter how hard they tried.

It reminds me of how different I am. And sometimes, I don't want to be different. Sometimes, I don't want to be better. I want everyone to have what I have. I want everyone to be able to do the things I take for granted. I want everyone to be able to see the beauty I see in an elegant equation, a precise experiment, a brilliant theory, a tantalizing hypothesis. I wish everyone could experience this beauty, instead of the frustration and fear of math and science that so many people have.

Is it so wrong to wish more beauty upon the world?

 

Review: I Dare You

I'm fascinated by the idea of sex games. For a long time, most of what I knew about them were the notorious dirty dice - style games, and had heard whispered giggles implying that they were raunchy. In the last few months, I've seen and learned a bit more, so when Babeland offered me the chance to review the new game "I Dare You", I was game (if you'll pardon the pun).

Boy Body Hair

I'm a bit funny about hair. Personally, I adore a good head of hair. Seriously, it's one of the big things that really stick about a person, to me. I'll be able to describe their hair to you, a few approximates about their general body type... and that's about it. But I'll be able to go on and on about their hair. I adore my own hair (or what's left of it now that I've donated again); I love playing with my boyfriend's thick, soft ringlets. Think hispanic Shirley Temple hair in a rich brownish black, and you've got his hair. It's wonderful and perfect to play with, while still being masculine. Playing with it when it's freshly washed and brushed and dried, when it glows and shines and runs through my fingers like silk, is such a sensuous experience for me.

I'm fine with arm hair on a guy. Leg hair? Fact of life, doesn't bug me. Facial hair isn't my thing, but I understand that some people (read: my boyfriend) look better with a goatee than cleanshaven, so regardless of the fact that it feels like a nest of black wires, I put up with it. (And pull it and pet it and play with it and threaten to braid it...)

And then there's torso hair.

I absolutely loathe hair on a guy's torso. Chest hair, back hair, crotch or butt hair. Anything more than a fine coating of down is a turn-off for me. To give you an idea, there was one actor I loved drooling over for years. Then I saw him topless. After one disappointed glimpse at that chest hair, I lost all attraction. There was literally nothing there. No more feverish fantasizing sessions about his hot bod. Nothing but regret, and a bit of revulsion. Heavy chest hair bugs me that much.

Herein lies the problem. I love my boyfriend. I find him hot, and sexy, and wonderful. But genetically, I know I'm in for a nightmare as he ages. You see, his dad and older brother look like they're wearing bear rugs on their chests. Seriously. It terrifies me. Until about a year ago, it looked like my boyfriend took after the other side of the family, with just a dusting of thicker chest hair under the clavicle. Then, it started to spread. More of his chest got hairy. Recently, it's started to meander over onto his back as well.

I don't want to be turned off by my boyfriend's body hair, really I don't. Regardless of how I tease him, I'm never going to force him into a waxing salon, either. (If he chooses to, fine, but only if HE really wants rid of the hair, not just for me) I have, however, banned him from ever shaving. I am NOT cuddling up to a prickly mass of full-body stubble. I just need to learn how to... if not appreciate, at least not be bugged so much by his body hair. Somehow. Before he gets a bear rug chest of his own.

(Maybe I could give it a name? Call it Fred, and make a pet of it?)

(Ok, maybe that's going a little too far.)

...

Busy with Finals

I'm not dead, I swear. I've entered the finals crunch time for this semester, so life is packed. I've got some posts almost ready to go up that may get finished in my spare moments (or not... I may sleep instead), but otherwise you won't be seeing much of me till I finish. Then I can get back to babbling at you, writing reviews, and getting bloggy stuff done. Life is insane, but hey, at least the sex is amazing to make up for it!

Finals have begun. See you all on the other side!