Full Exposure: Opening Up to Sexual Creativity and Erotic Expression by Susie Bright Read Free Book Online

greatest achievement was that I honestly didn’t care if anyone

    sympathized—I was too self-involved, in a good way. I had done something as a favor that turned out to mean a lot to me, and it’s a reflection I’ll always treasure. This is the medal you get.
    I wish everyone had a picture of their face in ecstasy, in erotic contentment, in bliss, in desire. For themselves, not for an audience. Why don’t more people take that picture, or draw it, or write their erotic portrait? We don’t have that custom; we’ve been fearful of it. Even when we intellectually assert our liberal-sex credentials, we hold back because we wonder how our efforts will be labeled. Will we be called pornographers or erotic artists? What would be more dismissive or illustrious? The prizes of propriety and discrimination, of cynicism and apathy, don’t look so hot, despite the feverish competition.
    CHAPTER SEVEN ‌
    THE PRICE OF TITILLATION

    Money creates taste.

    Jenny Holzer

    O ur fascination with grading sex is an unfortunate puritan hangover. But we have another preoccupation that’s an even bigger headache, an antierotic migraine case. Need I count it out in small, unmarked bills? Our need to grade everything according to its price—its perceived value on the status marketplace—is, at bottom, our crippling bow to the greater god of all things material and moneyed. Our culture uses sex in the most cynical way to “sell” anything—even though we blanch when sex is presented simply, or sold for itself. The false promise of sex, the illusions we flatter when served on a silver platter, never ceases to boggle my mind. It also makes me want to resist, and that’s the first sign of recovery.
    Ninety percent of what our media calls sexual entertainment is actually pure titillation—so yummy in the first sniffs and

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    mouthfuls, such a tummy ache later on. Titillation, the word, is de-rived from Latin titillare, “to tickle,” and there begins its exquisite torture. Titillation makes an art form out of teasing—and teasing is perfectly sweet, but it can never be called satisfying eroticism, because its very nature is to withhold what we dream of and place it permanently out of reach.
    It’s not that titillation doesn’t belong in our path to arousal. On a person-to-person level, it’s exciting to dress provocatively, to seduce, to impress, to offer a promise. But the anticipation of actually connecting with someone is what keeps those promises alive, what makes that seduction so enticing.
    In real life, we get through those ups and downs, sometimes landing in the embrace we hope for—and sometimes falling on our face. However, in the mainstream world of advertising and entertainment, sex is used strictly as titillation, and the viewer is left holding the bag. Almost everything we see on commercial media is powered by sexual titillation. It’s not designed to promote self-en- lightenment or human connection, it’s made to get you to do something else—buy something, yearn to buy something—which erotically leaves you nowhere. The new car, the new dress, the new breakfast cereal—these and images are what make up most of the titillating erotic illustrations around us.
    It’s no wonder so many people accuse advertising and its related promotions with leaving a bad taste in their mouths. The most ex-cruciating examples are criticized for being phony: no awesome babe in an evening gown is going to be my lover if I buy this Cadillac. But in truth, even the more subtle insinuations are just as pathetic. By comparison, even the dopiest pornography delivers more on its sexual promise—the nude pictures that invite you to be aroused for their own sake.

    Commercial titillation has the gimmicky personality that fits perfectly with our obsession with making real sexual pleasure either an enigma or a sham. Titillation is the American standard: first offer a peek, then slap the hand that seeks to touch. I’ll tease you, then