Quite frankly, I find the request for a $5 billion bailout for the porn industry to be hilarious. Like Larry Flynt and Joe Francis aren’t already getting enough of our hard-earned money? Or, perhaps (and much more likely) they believe that we, the general public, are too stupid to know how much dough they’re really raking in.
It’s a matter of public record that every second of every day sees almost 400 people conducting online searches for pornography, while over 28,000 people are already viewing it; in this same second, more than $3,000 dollars are being spent on it.
Other research has shown that the release rates of pornographic films as compared to mainstream productions are a shocking 20 to 1. An astonishing 55 percent of all movies rented in hotel rooms are pornographic in nature, even if they are only watched for an average of twelve minutes at a time (which in and of itself is fodder for an entirely different article). Obviously, men like Flynt and Francis need very little outside help to continue to enjoy their lucrative liaisons.
Of course, not every person on the planet watches porn, despite the $97 billion in annual, worldwide revenue. And of those that do indulge, only a portion will even admit to it, mostly because of the stigma that would surround such a confession. So often, and sometimes for our entire lives, we keep things a secret out of fear of what others will think of us. We all have our own little naughty indulgences that we prefer to keep private, and that’s okay. Particularly when our society is quick to judge its fellow man—and woman!
For me, I’m not afraid to say it: I watch porn. I enjoy—and have my own personal collection of—particular flavors of pornography. Adult films are simply one form of intimate entertainment that I share with my husband in our efforts to keep our sex life healthy. Even in years past, when I was a single woman, I was not at all averse to occasionally indulging in it alone. (This is a little tidbit my husband thoroughly enjoys being reminded of, so I just thought I’d toss that in there.)
My appreciation of pornography, however, and the positive role it could play in my sex life, is not something I’ve always been able to claim. In fact, it’s only been the past ten years or so that I could actually discuss sex out loud. Prior to that, just the thought of watching other people engage in sexual activities was enough to make me blush. If, by chance, I did find myself in a situation in which porn was an inevitability, I was highly uncomfortable and never enjoyed myself. My favorite part was when it was over.
I recognize now that so much of the pleasure to be gleaned from adult films and images is dependent upon maintaining a healthy attitude about myself and my own sexuality. Back when it all just embarrassed me, I had zero self-esteem and the worst body image imaginable. It only makes sense (now) that I wouldn’t want to see other people naked when I couldn’t really find anything worth showing off in my own nudity. If the truth were told, I was even uncomfortable during relatively mild sex scenes in movies rated PG and R.
Furthermore, if I was with a guy who was all gung-ho about watching a skin-flick, I was convinced that there was no way he could really want to be with me. I mean, how could he want to see bodies that looked like that, doing things I’d never even imagined, and still want to share intimacy with the likes of me? Or maybe it was that he needed to look at them to be with me because something was wrong with me and my body. And since all I was doing was comparing my own body to the bodies on-screen, how could I ever feel better about myself?
