When I was an adolescent I had two different Playboy magazines under my bed. At the time I felt like a nudie magazine millionaire. Well, maybe not a millionaire, but a very wealthy man. It felt like I was dating those centerfolds with the regularity that I saw them naked. At night, before bed, I’d crack one open and with my imagination racing I’d enjoy a hot-and-wild fifteen minutes before falling asleep as a highly satisfied thirteen year old.
Then you end up in High School and there are post-pubescent girls all over. Large breasts in tight white button-downs and plaid skirts. You want to be a wild animal. You want to fuck them all. You’re in bed at night and you’re thinking of Lynette with her long dark hair, and her perfect skin, and her full breasts, and suddenly Miss October seems a little less appealing. Lynette had the depth of reality; Lynette represented possibility.
I went through all the typical teenage struggles of wanting girls and not understanding how to get them. Wanting a girlfriend. Wanting sex, and validation, and some kind of emotional connection.
I remember the first time our eyes met in front of her locker, before first period, on a cold December morning. Our eyes met, and the world slowed down. Until that point nothing had felt so real, and the feeling surged through my body. This was the most intense feeling of sexuality I may have ever experienced and it was just eye contact. Without a hint of hyperbole, in that moment, I would have told you that she was the most beautiful girl in the entire world.
You’ll never feel that way as an adult.
A few months later, it’s Spring and I’m fucking her from behind in front of the fireplace in her parent’s living room. This was inevitable. The 70s can’t last forever; before you know it, it’s 1982 and you’re shooting cheap pornos on VHS. Innocence doesn’t last.
You get one shot at true romance and it’s in High School. Even if you didn’t make the most of it, hopefully you got your feet wet. This makes for a well adjusted adult. Men who are excluded from the dating game in High School grow up angry and bitter.
My relationship with Jessica ended a lot like Halloween II, a big nasty explosion. I had learned about life and the rules of attraction, and then promptly forgot it all for a big chunk of time between then and now. Only now can I look back to the past and pick things up from there, like Halloween H20; Halloween 4-6 are just wasted junk.
There was challenge to courting Jessica. There was risk involved. My thirst for sex and validation provided the urgency to act. Jessica was more interesting than Super Nintendo, thirty-six channels of cable television, or Miss October. It was either risking aesthetic rejection or jacking off forever to mental pictures of the time Lynette missed some of the buttons on her impossibly tight white button-down.
There was nothing voyeuristic about courting Jessica; I had to get my hands dirty. I had stand in the fire of in-person competition, and under the stress of having all eyes on me. I had to be the hunter.
It pains me to think that teenage boys today associate sex with their computers rather than experimenting with their female peers. Fumbling with Jessica’s firm c-cups and hairy pussy was infinitely more exciting than the static images of Miss October.
The effort involved in courting her ultimately sharpened me as a man.
If I were a teenager today, would I think Jessica was more exciting than infinite internet porn? Internet porn requires zero effort, and there is no risk or danger involved. In a world of internet porn there are larger breasts and admirable grooming standards. In a world of infinite entertainment there is YouTube and virtual reality. A world devoid of loneliness where texting and Facebook can stand as hollow replacements for human interaction… would there exist enough impetuous to be the hunter?
A voyeur, be definition, is not an active participant. A voyeur is a consumer. The Millennial primarily considers voyeurism as a means to understanding the world. The nostalgia they feel is for pop-culture events, not for real life touchstones like fingering Jessica through a wall of pubic hair while “Scream” played in the background.
The Millennial most desires the full legalization of marijuana. They’ll swear you’re old or out-of-touch if you have a word to say against anything less than full legalization. The media loves pushing marijuana; you’ll only ever see mainstream media pieces on how silly it is that marijuana was the older generation’s taboo, and how there are only positive benefits to marijuana use and legalization. Politicians like Jeb “Cool Like You” Bush will be quick to jump on the bandwagon. Academia will be sure to promote legalization as some kind of Progressive monolith hinged on social justice.
It’s naive to think it won’t be legalized. There is too much to gain from legalization. Beyond the taxation benefits, marijuana legalization will be a corporate interest.
When there are only high-fives and pats on the back, further reason to feel vastly superior to our naive ancestors, and media pieces on how great marijuana is. When Hollywood stars go out of their way to be seen smoking; when the two broke girls have a new added expense; when there are million hit YouTube videos where, uh-oh, Grandma’s smoking for the first time and getting silly! When fast food companies are quick to get in on the action and launch marijuana themed ad campaigns. When major corporations launch their own brands of marijuana. When you can buy marijuana at Wal-Mart. When President Hillary Clinton is taking selfies smoking-up with the Kardashians.
When there are no downsides; after all, marijuana isn’t addictive! When we’re encouraged to smoke, watch network television, eat processed food, and get sexual release from the internet.
When we’re encouraged to settle for a life of voyeurism and consumption.
My generation is the last of a dying breed, and we get to reminisce about the days of horrifying pubic hair while we watch the world burn.
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