Tao of Kink

Chapter 16

Cruising

With all the gadgets, apps, dating websites ... so safe (no one will punch you in face), so practical (search by whatever category you imagine) ... why would anyone still go out? Loose time, risk having to say "no" straight in his face, run away, or even worse - risk having to gather courage and stop and look and say "so ... "

If I don’t bump into anyone, I still have a nice walk in the nature.

Walking through the maze evokes something like primeval hunter instincts. The craved for adventure - that nowadays exists mostly only in tumblr blogs with images of hiking, campfires, tents, metal cups, skinny dipping, exotic landscapes. It’s a smell of promise of stories - that stir the still waters of our story-less "do sex" stereotype. If sex was a movie, cruising would be the one with spectacular exteriors - unlike artificial sets of soap-opera.

Sex is not a task to do - with evaluation at the end.

It’s a game, an invitation to be playful together, a change so welcome in the boring routine of porn-imitation, serious if not over-dramatic faces, sometimes ridiculously serious individualities. Sex is a way to approach each other, play a mutually enjoyable game, the joy you (both) feel (or not) being the only evaluation at the end. It’s "there in the real world" flavor of sex with other vulnerable socially-denuded scared-shitless "real people". 

It’s not about if you get the cock, it’s about how you get to it.

You can walk in infinite loops. He might be hiding just behind the next turn. The effort, the vague air of danger, the increase in heartbeat - the fact that you have to get to him - is more exciting than what will you do with him at the end. It’s a fairy-tale with a reward at the end. Though the end would mean nothing without all the perils of achieving it. Sex is not what happens when you get him, sex is the cruising game itself.