Well-greased
The trip is nearing its end. I am a bit disappointed that the quality of the films I've seen has not improved as I had hoped. Too many “meh”s for me. I realize that that is, at least in part, my fault. I picked the films I see after all. Perhaps, this is just one of those things in which experiencing it twice dulls the excitement of it. Perhaps there's an element of novelty that plays into the whole experience that you lose after a while. It's also very possible that I am very tired of films and need a break. Regardless, it is my hope that screeners provide me with a lil more hope regarding the prospects of an entertaining Q-fest.
I have done far more solo adventuring this time around. I don't feel quite as anxious about finding my way around the Castro and surrounding neighborhoods. I still, however, find myself very nervous to take almost any kind of public transportation by myself, and frankly don't feel like it's an anxiety I need to address now, the city is walkable enough and I think I could use the cardio.
This trip has, however, forced me to confront some of my personal ideas of bodies, nakedness, and how these things relate to sex and sexuality. Obviously, any Midwesterner is going to be in near shock and awe at the amount of penis one will see on the streets of the Castro, and I was no exception. I took note of a few things that generally informed some of my thoughts and feelings regarding the matter. The naked folk are almost exclusively white, upper middle-aged, or elderly (what I assume to be) men, and the vast majority couldn't give a fuck about the supposed decency of a cock-sock. There was one exception, in that of a younger brother I saw out there, of whom I took this short observation: Well-greased.
I thought on this a lot while I was in San Fran: why it makes me so uncomfortable and the social implications of this army of unsocked cocks that wander the streets of the Castro. My first, and largest, concern is the question of consent. Assuming this act is completely non-sexual, and these men are simply nudists, then my objections go away. I don’t think it's fair to assume a sexual motive just because of nakedness. I suppose the question that comes to mind is if this is non-sexual, then why are they so insistent on being in the presence, in the direct sight of, clothed folk? Is this some kind of political statement about the need to detach sex from the naked body? about the need to free the cocks? if that is the case, then I'm all about it, and I shall lend my support while keeping all my appendages fully clothed, just personal preference.
However, I cannot help but question the motives of these folks, as it certainly walks a line regarding consent. The reality is, if this is some kind of exhibitionist stuff, then I have been forced to participate in their sexual gratification. Sure, no contact was made, but is this any different from being flashed? It seems like the kind of thing that is at such a risk of violating the social contract that, maybe it's worth specifying. I suppose I am not owed any kind of explanation about what anyone does with their body, but if the presence of your naked body upon my nonconsenting eyes does something for you, then I certainly take issue. Regardless, the reality is, I'll probably never know what the motives are. I certainly am not talking to some naked man on the street, everything my momma taught me and my midwestern sensibilities simply won't allow it. Call me a prude, it makes me uncomfy, and I don't think I’m willing to apologize for that. I have a love for people living their bodies and think everyone should take pride in their body. But the reality is sex, bodies, and consent have an intersection here—one that I may be too sensitive to. But I accept these are not reservations or questions these folks are unused to. I feel that when you walk about your home naked as the day you were born (with the exception of some of the worst old dude shoes I've ever seen), you may be inviting these questions. At the end of the day, these folks are gonna do them, and I’m gonna do me. I'll contemplate in my own mind on this, but above all else, I will, once again, resort to the age-old philosophy: Mind your damn business.
