pr0nstarz

I figured out what it is.

After much thinking I realized it is a confrontation between dream and reality, to meet a pornstar. When you fantasize about her, the fact that she is yours is tantamount to the fantasy. It is so obvious it almost goes without saying; she is yours to use and be used by. In reality though, one realizes that she is unattainable, a wish, a desire, a dream. To penetrate her, then, isn't the end goal. Neither is cumming on her tits. The goal is to achieve permission; to have her submit to you; to accept you and want you and love you. We must then confront the illusion we conjure when masturbating; the enormously vain self-deceit that makes us think: she wants me.

But, what is this if not fantasy?

A pornstar must thrive on the idea of being wholly and completely desired. They are, each of them, little Helens of Troy. It has to be what keeps them going - the pleasant sensation of being pleasing, of being yearned for. It's funny, through fantasy, we give them the very thing we seek: to feel wanted, needed.

For me to see her tonight would be to see the real her, to shatter the figment I've made and stare into the eyes of a reminder; reminding me of what she isn't. It is to wake up in the dark and realize your arms are not wrapped around the girl of your dreams, but instead, around a lifeless, old, yellowed pillow.