An open letter from the matriarchy

To be sure, I am addressing the collective manifest feminine.

I have heard many things that appear to represent the feminine consensus, 

But I would ask a few questions, for clarity's sake.  

What the fuck was that bit at the beginning all about?  I mean, somewhere, below the subconscious, in the actual basic stuff of my physical form, my cellular memory holds a reactive tendency.  I feel like I may be predisposed to trauma responses.  What other purpose could there be for mutilating newborn infants?  

Consider the process as it happened.  For about nine months you safely carried me as a part of your own body.  I've heard that you've been campaigning for the right to the sanctity of your body.  Is it my gender that removes that sanctity when we separated?  Like the doctor removed a piece of my gender?  Am I somehow more odious when I can appreciate sex naturally, when my nervous system is whole.  Is there some extra sensory awareness to be feared in that nerve cluster?  Is there something inherent about the feminine that I cannot detect without that bit of flesh?  Is that some twisted part of the feminine mystique, that a mystique implies unknown elements...do you have something to hide?  

But this horse paste won't make itself, I must continue.  

It seems significant to me.  That momentary betrayal.  

That first precious impression of a world of pain & restraint.  

Before I knew guilt, or acceptance.  

Reinforcing my fight or flight pathways, my reactivity, my hyper vigilant awareness; may have served humanities past.

But if you get the right to genital integrity and healthcare, can I at least not get attacked thusly at such a tender age.  I'm speaking from the lap here.  It knows.  Even if the memory doesn't or didn't have a conscious mind to receive it, it's part of my history.  I have scars.  Things don't fit right because they've been clipped.  When I get to puberty, each erection will tug at those scars uncomfortably, but I won't complain about it because, by then I will know that boys aren't supposed to complain unless its life-threatening.  When I try to think about what's happening to me, I get closer to an embedded sense of violation and loss, of monstrous restraint.  I may just act out when that starts happening.  Acting out of a blind sense of injustice stumbling around looking for a target, a way to feel like I am in control.  But boys will be boys, eh?  

It has been made clear to me that boys are made of unpleasantness and reactivity.  Snips and snails and all that.  Is it possible that might be an artificial overgeneraliztion that addresses this peculiar modification's side effects?

I have a lot more to talk about, but I would like to give you a chance to respond.  

And so I take pause.

Thirty dollars and two weeks ago... ( Affairsalert.com site review )

Well I guess it's time to admit that I fell for it.  Two weeks ago I signed up for a months service on a "discreet affairs" site.  So far this has been my first actual off-site email exchange.  I offer it for your analysis.  I welcome commentary.  

The woman in question, Casey, was listed in Kentucky on the site, and as a former Illinois boy myself, I suggested she move to a more interesting state.  That exchange was site side.  In any case, I'm in Colorado, and I really did not get the impression that she had any idea where she was.  Here is the exchange:

While I don't always open up like that when confronted by such atrocious grammar, I am bored and just woke up from a nap, so I'm inclined to entertain.

Here we have an escalation on her part, ladies if my information density drops from four sentences to one, its because I wanna get to business.  Although, I was trying to not create the opportunity for conversational tangent, she had yet to acknowledge anything I had said.  I suppose alpha primates might eat up the dumb and submissive act, asking me if you can ask a question...taking orders from the sites...etc...

I'm not "a legit".  I'm a creeper on a married woman's cheating site.  I'm actually pretty committed to the cam site I already hang out on.  It's nice to know that if I want to sit through thirty minutes of remote access begging, I can maybe see a nipple.  Or, just as likely, I might wander into a sweaty couple fucking half in shot on a shitty webcam in an over lit (if I'm lucky) tiny bedroom.  In any case, this isn't the first poorly executed Internet grift I've seen.  

Netizens, I ask you, am I being unreasonable?  Should I entertain the fantasy of some undersexed lingerie model/actress/clerk pining away for me in some Kentucky cornfield, frustratedly flicking her sore clitoris as she reviews pictures of me in a skirt?  Is this merely some undereducated aspiring sex goddess on a budget?  

But wait...there's more...

Anyone wanna take odds on her site referral being somewhere I have to "verify my age" by dispensing with my credit info?  I have her word at this point, that she will not ask me any single cent payment.  But that makes no promises about the site whose bidding she is doing.  

And I dont think its unreasonable to entertain myself thusly on 

E Internet.  I am fully aware how easy it is to set up a fake profile.  I lived through the MySpace wars and served as reserve on the Douchebag patrol.  Sure, I'm no Samdammit, but I did what I could.  Each according to his ability.  MySpace was the kind of crazy place where you actually talked to strangers, not friends and friends of friends, ad nauseum. 

 I actually got laid a few times as a side effect of MySpace addiction.  I made fast friends who became bitter enemies in a matter of minutes.  Life back then was weird and unstable, you didn't know if you would wind up online all night, or driving into the city to meet some slag who couldn't be troubled with leavings own pile of filth, let alone cleaning up for a guest.  

Maybe some slightly more affluent person would take a shine to me and fly out from a city I would never want to live in.  We would get a hotel room and disappoint each other over the course of a weekend.  Reality never holds up to scrutiny, the illusion is always brighter than the material it is projected upon.   

But it was wild!  It was stupid and dangerous, and if I'm not mistaken a lot of people got killed by evil lurkers who lured them to dark alleys.  That's what kept it interesting.  

That's why I'm on this affair site, its stupid as shit.  Everyone is so caught up,in the cloak and dagger that if you're not sitting around waiting for the inbox to ring, you will miss the five minutes these poor women have away from their families to check their illicit sex inbox.  

Or maybe it actually IS all automated bullshit with a little human window dressing when suckers shell out to create a profile that might wind up all across the Internet dating scene, a mask worn by scripts that type poorly and act like classic stereotypes.

I cannot be sure, but the effect is the same no matter what process informs the exchange.  When I'm by myself, I masturbate to porn.  I never feel like I need to pay for porn, even though those artists who make it all have expensive drug habits and therapy bills.  If im feeling particularly plentiful, in addition to buying guest snacks and random gifts, I might indulge myself in the fantasy of human contact, and then pay for a service that facilitates its avoidance while diminishing its likelihood.  

But it's better than the harsh realization that I am utterly alone and incomprehensible to the vast majority.  At least it seems plausible that one of these ladies might receive my message, and respond with mutual lust.  

Enough for today!