Much like Dorian, I owe the current turn in my own sexual journey, from swinger to something more – to something that embraces kink and BDSM practices, as well as a polyamorous understanding of my relationship with PC – to the power of the written word.
Two books in particular galvanized my imagination, setting in motion a series of emotional transformations from which I have yet to recover.
French Perversité
The first is a French text. I have mentioned it before, and I will have more to say about it in a future post: Pauline Reage’s The Story of O. Although I read it over six months ago, the hermetic universe Réage designs for O to elaborate on her metamorphosis into a sexual slave continues to haunt me. To date, my most compelling sexual fantasies are derived from the novel’s scenarios, particularly those involving O’s public humiliation.
The Ethics of Clean, Slutty Lovin’
The second book to have influenced my sexual exploration is equally incendiary, albeit from a conventional standpoint. You may know it: The Ethical Slut. Aside from the wealth of practical advice the authors, Easton and Hardy, offer to improve communication in relationships (monogamous and polyamorous alike), the following two points resonated most with me.
First, their definition of polyamory as synonymous with non-monogamy plain and simple – regardless of whether you are a swinger; have an open relationship; or, at the extreme, live in a group house with your five lovers, your kids, and their kids – made complete sense to me. Since then, I have started to identify as polyamorous.
Second, the interlude titled “Clean Love” resonated so deeply with my own ideal of love that it seemed as though I had written the description myself. Here are some choice quotes to give you a sense of what I mean:
Can you imagine love without jealousy, without possessiveness—love cleaned of all its clinginess and desperation?
Imagine seeing the beauty and virtues of a beloved and letting go of how their strengths might meet our needs or how their beauty might make us look better.
Imagine seeing another in a clean light of love, without enumerating the ways in which that person does and does not match up to the fantasy we carry around of our perfect mate or dream lover.
In practice, this idea of love is an “ideal,” i.e., an unattainable standard, but a standard I strive towards nonetheless, since the act of attempting to live up to it enriches me as a person and strengthens my relationships with others. (At least that's what I've experienced so far.)
Ironic Antidotes
Despite The Story of O’s hold over my imagination and The Ethical Slut's impact on how I conceive of my marriage, there is nonetheless a limit to how far I will permit a book to reconfigure my life. Life does not imitate Art: Fictional narratives especially follow their own inherent logic. No text can measure up against real-time, lived experience.
Case and point: The "poisonous" yellow book that Dorian reads is none other than Huysmans’ Against Nature (A Rebours), the narrative of a recluse who, after having experienced every possible sexual vice, cuts himself off from the world to fulfill his one remaining fantasy: Living a life in conformity with the constraints of aesthetics rather than the demands of nature (a.k.a. reality) . Both master and slave to his own auto-neurotic impulses, he pushes his body and mind to their limits in an effort to transcend the human condition.
The ironic failure of his project, his necessary return to the city and to “vanilla” life, offers a suggestive parallel to my own quest for transcendence through sex. The lesson in question is one that the suicidal Dorian failed to learn (or learned too late): It cautions me against taking my own “project” or myself too seriously.
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