I'm a country boy, and quite naïve. For all these years, I've thought that sex was a matter of getting naked and rolling around with somebody I care about, or even somebody I love. I really did think it had something to do with affection. There's a story -- probably a myth -- that the Inuit refer to sex as "laughing together". They may not really say that, but it strikes a chord with people. They remember it and repeat it. It always made perfect sense to me. Lots of others seem to agree, so I never gave it much thought.
Oh, how wrong I was!
Now I discover that we've all been confused. If we were really in touch with ourselves, if we were really comfortable with our sexuality and had genuinely honest and loving relationships with our partners, we wouldn't waste our time on that sick "affection" crap. Instead, we'd give in to our natural, instinctive desire to dress up in SS uniforms and drip hot wax on each other's nipples.
All this time, I've been in the hellish grip of a twisted, self-destructive urge to kiss pretty girls. What the hell was I thinking?! All the healthy people have been tying them to racks and hitting them with swagger sticks, like we were meant to do! What sane people would want to take each other's clothes off, when they could be putting on some kind of ad hoc amateur theatrical production instead?
I admit it: I've been one of those sick freaks who gets off on physical intimacy instead of hardware. What a fool I've been! But I'm ready to repent. I've seen the light, and I want to get my life on the right track.