The following article is written by a colleague. It does not necessarily represent my opinions. However, it is interesting.
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Exhibitionism. Hollywood has taught us that it’s a guy opening his trench coat to a bunch of school kids, but that’s almost entirely a fable. Exhibitionism is when someone derives sexual gratification from exposing a taboo body part.
That can be a difficult idea to get your brain around. What is “sexual gratification”? What causes it? If I get a raise and go home and do my wife, can I say that I am sexually gratified by raises? If I spend the day with the guys watching football, my team wins, and I go home and do my wife, can I say that an afternoon with the guys stimulates me? Where is the transition from non-sexual expression to sexual expression?
I don’t know, and I leave it with you to wonder about.
I get off on exhibitionism. I like my taboo parts to be noticed. I like my wife’s taboo bits to be noticed. And I like it when they are noticed by unsuspecting strangers.
Weird, eh? If I am working in the yard shirtless and a Muslim man and woman round the corner and he shields his wife’s eyes from me, well, that’s hot. If my braless wife walks past a group of businessmen on their way to lunch and they are suddenly distracted, that’s hot.
What a strange game for evolution to play. We have taboos against some sexual expressions, and it’s the breaking of some of these taboos that bring sexual excitement.
In some sexual circles, there is a concept of “consent”. You must have the consent of all parties or your activity is unacceptable, wrong, forbidden. But my fetish works only without the other party’s consent.
I was speaking to an Australian sex therapist recently about this, and he had interesting thoughts. A 12-month-old baby has no concept of consent, but an adult certainly has the capacity to turn away. Thus, we have consent. In other words, his notion was that, by the act of being adults and being alive, we consent to life and what it gives us.
I don’t know if I quite agree with that, but it’s an interesting idea.
Ah, you may wonder, what of the person traumatized by some violent act, and my unwarranted act of exhibitionism triggers emotional distress?
What about the soldier who saw a baby killed in Iraq and now is traumatized whenever she hears a baby cry? Are we to hide all babies? What of the boy who was injured at a family picnic and now has panic attacks whenever he smells barbeque chicken? Do we disallow all barbeque chicken? And the woman who lost her granddaughter in a car accident? Are cars to be banned?
Of course not. Adults must learn to deal with the world. The world will not—and should not—change for my own failings. This is true for sex, too.
So, I enjoy my and my wife’s exhibitionism, not despite social mores, but because of them. And I applaud the girls on prom night who dress to attract attention, the boys playing basketball shirtless, the housewife who wears her thong higher than her jeans while shopping at Safeway, and the millions of other folks who find their own way to titillate using something as simple and available as their own body.