I hate porn. I really do. Okay, maybe not really. Maybe hate is the wrong word.
"If you know any sex/porn addicts, I know the cure. Become an adult webmaster." |
I was trained and worked in the theater for a relatively long time. I can delineate good theater from bad theater. Because I know exactly what’s going on backstage I have a hard time enjoying theatrical productions. The more professional the production, the more I find myself criticizing every element from the lighting to the costumes to the sets to the actor’s performances. I can tell when actors are trying to out act each other. I know when they forget their lines no matter how well they cover it up. I don’t go to see plays much anymore. I have seen behind the magic and now mourn the memory of the mystery.
Perhaps it’s because I’m not a man. Perhaps it’s because I’ve seen the backstage side of the industry. Or perhaps it’s just that I’m old. Whatever the reason, porn holds no interest for me as entertainment. That wasn’t always true. I used to dig on porn a bunch. When I first got on the net, I spent hours and hours and hours looking at it and for it. Porn taught me how to use search engines. Porn kept me safely at home instead of out on the town doing bad things. Internet porn appeased my lust and helped me get a handle on my slutty side.
Eventually my love of porn coincided with my other obsession for making web pages. In the five years since, I’ve seen more porn than most adults a generation ago saw in their whole lifetime. I’ve seen shoots. I’ve met the models. I know all about the illusion. I know the women are paid. I know the scenarios are staged. I know that busty babe on the paysite may look like a whore but she really just keeps fucking her husband over and over for the camera. I know that teen isn’t really a teen and that amateur is really a professional. Behind the explicit shots, the passionate text and the wild porn are a bunch of ordinary folks doing their jobs.
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Now when I look at porn, I imagine the model signing their release form. I look at the pictures of writhing bodies and my eyes drift towards the scenery and I wonder "Where did the find that couch?" I’ve seen so many good boob jobs; my ability to recognize fake ones is beginning to fail. The models start to all look alike and so does the smut. While the rest of the world gets emotional about dirty pictures, I smile and yawn. I deleted my personal stash of porny pics long ago. I don’t need them. Everywhere I look is porn.
I know I’m not alone.
A great many of my fellow webmasters have become immune to smut. How else can it be explained that when at an adult event half the room doesn’t even bat an eye when lesbian models take off their clothes and start eating each other out? To an adult webmaster, sex becomes the product. The merchandise. The inventory. We want to see sex so we can take its picture and get our money. If you know any sex/porn addicts, I know the cure. Become an adult webmaster.
What worries me is if our collective ennui effects our end product? Is it possible that we can no longer see porn through the eyes of the horny surfer? To us the imagery is filler. To the surfer it’s the end of the rainbow. Have we forgotten the excitement? Do we remember the way the heart races when we first encounter the site of our dreams? Are we so used to our broadband pipes we’ve neglected the dial up pervert who will babysit an hour-long video download because they want it that badly? Are we so swept up in the next big niche we’ve overlooked those who just want a little cheesecake with a pretty face?
I hope not. I hope we don’t become so jaded we lose touch with the people who pay our bills. I hope we never forget that there still a whole world of people who will never work in adult. For them our product is still exhilarating. For them, that site meat is something mysterious and magical. I hope we remember to see things through their eyes. I hope we never get to be too jaded.