I’m not really offended. Just … confused. See, I know the naked body is fascinating. Especially the naked female body. If it has the wrong proportions, it still evokes a degree of fascination, even if it’s the wrong kind.
So when the conversation on twitter today strayed into the reed dance, I was kind of … well … disappointed. I suppose it’s silly to be upset by what is essentially human nature. After all, the dancers voluntary showed their wares, so there’s no exploitation involved. It’s a case of willing buyer, willing photographer.
And of course now the photographer is elevated to hero status. He has lived out every man’s dream. Attending the reed dance and standing close enough to touch is a zillion times better than chilling out at the Playboy Mansion I guess.
I think what really disappointed me is the implication. I watched as even the most genteel of Twitter males oohed and aahed over the pictures. I unfollowed some guys who made crass comments, but as the ‘polite’ ones chimed in, I figured I might unfollow everyone, so I fingered off the trigger.
I have this endless debate in my head about whether or not a gentleman would visit a strip club or grope jiggling lady bits. I suppose the ‘man’ part in gentleman is preset to that reaction, especially since most men are wired to divorce the physical from the emotional. Jiggling lady bits are purely physical.
The only difference is that a gentleman might be more quiet about. I happen to know one gentleman who constantly confuses me. He’s man enough to make t*tty and p*ssy jokes on Facebook, yet when he had a willing thonged dancer on his laps, he turned her away for being underage [and replaced her with a legal one].
In another instance, he distributed ping pong balls. Let me explain. In the US, there is Jello wrestling. In Europe, there are beer slides. In the jungle, there is mud wrestling. At rock night, there are wet t-shirt contests. In the Phillipines, there are ping pong balls. A guy buys a pack of ping pong balls and tosses them on the dance floor, and the women … well … let’s just say the Mama Sans pay them for every ball they retrieve so, yeah.
The average guy watches fascinated, even as his wallet gets set for another ball-pack. The nice guy buys the balls, calls the girls over, counts the girls and the balls, and distributes them equally. That right there has led to discount offers. And that is why nice guys finish last, and get it for free.
Some Twitter guys I know are all nice and sweet and buying coffee and opening doors, but they whistled louder than Droopy at the reed dance photo gallery.
I guess there are a lot of grey areas in life, and drooling at a nubile thing doesn’t make him less of a nice guy. Every guy would do a threesome if he had half a chance. Doesn’t make him a man whore. Just makes him human. Hence, the reed dance.
I think what really bugs me is realising that these guys who seem so polite are mostly having conversations with my chest. It’s not that they’re above ogling, it’s that they’re discreet enough not to get caught. Le sigh.
I was browsing through some chick porn the other day, just out of curiosity. I suppose it works for some, but I still prefer the bathroom scenes from Bourne Identity or How To Lose A Guy in 10 Days. Somehow it’s just more … stimulating … than straight porn. I guess I like the slow, demure stripping and the sensual parts.
In an ideal world, you’d only want to see your loved one naked. But life isn’t ideal. I’m aware that half the people you meet are mentally undressing you. It’s human nature, and girls do it too.
Thing is, it’s mental, so it’s fine. You can’t police a person’s mind. It’s when the thought is verbalized that it gets offensive, because having someone undress me without my consent is, well, rapey. It’s one thing if my man talks dirty, it’s another thing if a stranger addresses my p*ssy. I suppose that’s why the reed dance upset me. It’s fine to know you all wish it silently, it’s another to see your jaws leaking drool.
Meanwhile, I wonder what would be the reed dance equivalent for girls. I’m as visual as they come, but staring at donkey-sized gonads does very little for me. Abs and pecks maybe, but nothing below the waist is pretty. Filling, yes. Tasty, maybe. But never pretty. There’s a very good reason why the eyes were placed way beyond the midriff.
Still, it would be awesome if someone would invent a peep show for girls. I’m thinking it would involve Shemar Moore, Denzel Washington, and Will Smith eating ice cream on a beach with their pants on. Now there’s a threesome I could live with. Throw in Pierce Brosnan and I’d be in peep show heaven.
So when it comes to Kenyan guys ga-ga-ga-ing at visuals of the reed dance, who am I to judge? I’d probably yell from the mountaintops if Shemar Moore shared ice cream with me.
♫ What about ♫ Dope ♫