Just Between Us

They say that amateur is the most successful brand of pornography.
That genre with the wine glasses and the semen is pretty steamy, sure.
Nauseatingly so.
But amateur. That's what we want to see.
And we all know why it is that we want to see it.
We hope to encounter someone from high school on some filthy (free) site somewhere.
So we can judge their character.
Judge their nude body.
And then forget all the fightin' and fussin' of the past.
And masturbate.
With gusto, I might add.
This is healthy.
This is adulthood.
And it happens, too.
It's happening all over the world (internet) right now.
Wait...
See? It just occurred again.
Some guy in a bathrobe stumbled upon an intimate film starring the girl who sat behind him in biology.
And suddenly it's human reproduction all over again.
He's springing to his feet, arms raised high, his bathrobe flappy and agape.
"Who's the prom king now!?" He cries to his empty apartment.
"Who's the prom king now!?"
Exclude the simmering betrayal that had to transpire for her to be on there in the first place.
And it's really a beautiful thing.

I had such a film once, y'know.
Plus photos.
But when the relationship cooled (ended horribly), so too did I.
In a proud act of defiance and maturity, I physically mailed these exposures back.
Leaving no spare copies.
None.
This, it would turn out, was the most idiotic thing I have ever done.
And it's a long list.
Like I'd never get over it.
Like she stops being naked and erotic because she left the province.
Like my being upset has anything to do with my two-years-from-now libido.
I mean, my Jesus.
It still turns my stomach to think of it.
How stupid I was.
Now I wish I had uploaded it.
Just so I could search the internet until I found it again.
Save it in 'my favourites'.
I'm not into that, though.
Posting ex-sex chums on the internet.
I find the notion vile and uncouth.
It takes a tremendous amount of self-confidence for me to bed a woman.
Never mind record it.
This I usually need to amplify with alcohol.
And talking.
And being charming, but not too charming.
Cool clothes that aren't too cool.
I need to be sweet and I need to cook stuff when it's unexpected.
I need to stand outside her window in the rain, holding a boom box over my head.
Why would I go through all of this?
Have this intimate piece of media to share with this person.
Just to have some unit in Wisconsin find it, watch it and keep it forever more?
For free!
He doesn't even need to get out of his chair.
And he has it.
The thought is honestly ludicrous to me.
It really is.
I wouldn't even show it to my good friends unless she was dead and I was really hammered.
So, ladies, just so you know.
You can bring your Coolpix along on the first date.
I'm on the level.
You can dump me and I won't even keep a copy for myself.
Idiot!