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Pornography, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. What engages admiration, or prompts the baser instinct, can be a different thing to us all. For your average young heterosexual male there’s not much argument. The prominent nipple of a shop window dummy can tip his thoughts into a delirium of anticipation. It’s that simple. There again, the desires of youth are not the same as those of age, and those lucky enough to find love and maturity. One programme or another holds us in its grip and the whims of an underlying agenda urge us on. Women too, I am assured - although I maintain their needs are always far more reasonable (if vulnerable to the ticking clock of complex procreative machinery).
Human beings are sophisticated animals, prone to a variety of pleasures and perversions. But ‘perversions’ is a word of unconscionable overuse and rarely appropriate. We can cling rigidly to the four-posters of convention, admit no colours other than the black and white of gender, morality and reproductive purpose, and find nothing wanting therein; or we can explore the full spectrum of sensation and never feel fulfilled. It isn’t something we can completely control. It comes with the package of being born and nurtured in an increasingly unnatural world. Some abandon the road of ‘normality’ altogether; most are not so bold. But what, say, does a foot fetishist see in the elegant turn of a heel, or for that matter, an odorous trainer? Personally, I do find that an odd one. Yet, let me confess, if I had a hand in my own design, with boxes to tick, I’d have ticked the whole caboodle and gladly. If nothing more, consider the convenience. One need never be lonely again:
Bisexuality, Swinging, Cross-dressing, Monogamy, Polygamy, Bondage, Rubber, S&M, Black & Decker...
Whether I would have found such a glorious cocktail of trouble and sensory experience quite my ‘cup of tea’ is another matter. As it is, I’m actually a little boring. For a start I resent sexual gymnastics that impede verbal communication and eye contact. Physical connection is not all - I have to be close in other ways. The ‘missionary position’ and a tad of the exhibitionist/voyeur (an inherent part of honest naturism?) are all I’m guilty or capable of. It’s a dull sexual résumé by Channel 4 standards, but I’m satisfied. (Which is probably more than you care to know).
However, should the dull or even the lust-crazed libertine be empowered to impose their ideology on others?
I’d give that a resounding No!
But they never stop trying.
What the postman sometimes delivers is enough to make me choke on my muesli. Either we’re on several adult mailing lists, courtesy of our home’s previous occupants, or my wife is trying to tell me something. But junk mail – if well thumbed in the mood of the moment – is still junk mail. It vies for space in our over-burdened recycling bin with double-glazing and pizza offers.
Sex crops up again on the Internet - a ghost determined to haunt me. I recently searched the web for a computer part and had my senses so bludgeoned by Japanese porn sites that I nearly forgot what a 128 megabyte RAM chip actually was, and where to put it.
Naturism on the Internet presents a minefield of sexual exploitation. It’s a distinct irritation. But the wonderful thing is you can click a button and it goes away – eventually. You have a choice. Sadly, censorship isn’t like that.
Frankly, I’d sooner preach the gospel of ‘The Flat Earth Society’ (an archaic group who still believe the world can’t possibly be round) than presume to police a person’s thoughts, creativity and leisure interests, but I do feel a certain sympathy. The moral goal posts (basically, public opinion and tolerance) are constantly moving. What is pornographic? Where does it begin and where will it end?
For some we know sexual desire can be inflamed by footwear. Does this brand the shoemaker a pornographer? Of course not. We define pornography as “…intended to stimulate erotic rather than aesthetic feelings.” Therefore, what matters is not how others perceive the shoe but the craftsman’s intention in making it. To my mind when the shoemaker produces a stiletto in red patent leather with a six-inch heel, his position becomes indefensible – he clearly doesn’t hold the interests of walking comfort highly enough in mind – but I manage to contain my moral outrage.
Photographers, writers, artists, models and publishers are easier prey for the moralist. H&E Naturist shares the top shelf with magazines whose express purpose is to stimulate erotic feelings. Yet, H&E Naturist is very different in style, content and, most important of all, intention. It has a foot in the contentious camps of free speech and nudity – it doesn’t endorse repression – but here similarities end. To those who can only equate the naked human condition with a sexual experience, we nod understandingly - their time will come. To those who sit in judgement of others and persist in seeing pornography in every frank and well-balanced publication, what more can I say?
…Cobblers?!
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