Meet Me In The Library: Engaging your mind for hotter sex
Once upon a time, porn was a relatively difficult commodity to obtain. My husband and I talk all the time about how hard it was in the ’80s to catch a glimpse of boobs or cocks back then. You might snag a Playboy or Penthouse from an older relative if you got lucky, or catch a fleeting glimpse of a nipple through the fuzz on late-night Cinemax. But actual porn? It was out of reach for a curious, horny teenager.
Now, if there’s a fetish—no matter how obscure—you can be certain it exists on Pornhub or some other site.
I have two main gripes about porn. First, I worry about the exploitation of performers. Second, I think it removes the element of imagination from our sex lives. People have asked me about my biggest fantasy, and honestly, I don’t even know anymore. I feel so desensitized—there’s very little I haven’t seen if I wanted to. It’s also hard to determine which porn is truly “ethical.” So when my conscience kicks in, I find myself returning to my roots—back to when tits and ass were taboo—and turning instead to written erotica (on sites like Literotica.com).
There’s something exciting about reading improbable stories—aliens, tentacles, creatures, delivery guys, and everything in between. It’s even more satisfying knowing that no one was harmed, coerced, or traumatized for the sake of a “performance.” Lately, I’ve been thinking more about the ethical implications of our global obsession with porn. No judgment here—this is just my perspective. I’m not jumping on a NOFAP bandwagon, but I would like to scale back on the more extreme content. I have a very open mind, but I also want to recalibrate my desires so I can enjoy simpler things again.
I think porn has gone to such extremes because it’s become driven by shock value—disgust, horror, and thrill-seeking. It’s more about titillation than true fantasy, which is why it keeps pushing boundaries. When you see something on screen, it becomes a kind of reality—even if it’s exaggerated or shocking. Over time, that can make everyday sex feel dull or lackluster. And porn almost always strips away emotional connection. There’s little room for suspense or romance when the entire premise is just sex. (And let’s be honest—the plots and acting rarely help.)
I’ve often heard that women supposedly aren’t as visually driven as men when it comes to porn. Personally, I enjoy the visual aspect—but I also love fantasy. I like imagining how characters interact and how situations unfold. When you’re constantly exposed to intense, real imagery, it becomes harder to generate that fantasy in your own mind.
I’d also argue that with social media, COVID, and increasing isolation, we’re losing touch with real human connection—mind, body, and soul. I want to disconnect from my phone, laptop, TV, Alexa, and everything else—and reconnect with my partner. I want to fantasize again, to dream up dirty things to say, to rediscover the language of love, eroticism, and intimacy. I think I can get there by hitting a reset—reading erotic fiction and rebuilding my sexual vocabulary. I’ll let you know how it goes.
