More like a ”guilty displeasure”, really.
Back in the day, my best friend wanted me to go with him to see a ”skin flic”. I'd never seen one before and I don't think that he had either. Why he couldn't go alone I'll never know. Anyway, it was the renowned film ”Deep Throat” with Linda Lovelace and it was all the talk. It was showing at the hush-hush cinema for ages (by ”popular demand” they said) and it was probably nearly a year of my friend's badgering me before I finally agreed to see it with him.
Now, I don't know how everyone else experiences these things for the first time, but I was disgusted. I don't know why I was so turned off but I recon it was because I had more sex than I could handle those days - I was a university student back then, you see – and I suppose I couldn't see any sense in watching other people grapple and sweat on the sheets, on the kitchen sink, on the floor, in the doctor's office, and just about everywhere else thinkable. What's the point in fantazing about it? Hell, I was living that life for real.
OK. We can crank the clock forward several years. How many? Shit, I don't know. But eventually, I got around to seeing another one. It was also disgusting but not nearly as much as the first one. So I can say today that I've seen more than a dozen of them and these days my disgust is in myself for not finding them so distasteful anymore. A ”guilty pleasure”? Yeah, I guess so.
