“The problem is that much cinema lazily recycles one, repeating fantasy, limiting and ill-fitting of the multitude of sexual experiences that we’ve all had.” From: What Do David Lynch’s Movies Say About Sex? – The Toast
Um, yes. That’s us, multitudes of sexual experiences over here, righty-o. Ahem.
You know, I’m starting to get the impression that any sort of ambivalence about sex a person might have is becoming an acceptable excuse to discount that person entirely. I’m not sure why, except that sex-ambivalence is often thought to be the next door neighbor to sex-negativity, and the people in that house tend to be compassionless pricks who believe that STI’s and pregnancy are the just desserts of intercourse, that sex is an act that men perpetrate and women grimly endure (because if they enjoy it, there’s something wrong with them), and that anyone carrying a condom while traversing a sidewalk should be arrested as a prostitute, etc.
But, while I fully agree that sex-negativity of that sort should be jeered out of society forever and ever and ever, I’d hate to see ambivalence get thrown to the wolves alongside it. I do not, for example, believe that the human body is a hideous flesh sponge, gone putrescent with sin — only that mine is. Nor do I feel that sex is by its nature a disgusting, humiliating experience — only that sex with me, is. You all can do whatever you like! Have fun! I don’t want people to be miserable, I want people to be happy.
The thing is, sex is off the table for me, even though it’s apparently some really important part of being human, something we all do (or are supposed to do). So my ambivalence makes me something less than human, I suppose. I guess I can live with that.