THE NEW DEMOCRACY OF PORN

It’s been a while since I had an online dating profile (they’re usually frowned upon by boyfriends). But that hasn’t provided much escape from naked sexiness, which has been finding its way onto social networks in increasing droves – since about a month after they were invented.

There was a phase when so many random gay guys were adding me on Facebook I could have been forgiven for thinking I was famous. But the feeding frenzy turned out not to be about me at all – it was just part of the signature gay tendency to want to be connected to every other gay person on the internet.

All so that we can peruse one another’s photos when we’re feeling horny, or browse for future partners and strike up conversations with multiple members of the world’s largest pictorial database without even needing to shave, douche or get off the couch.

And now that we have extended our lives onto every platform imaginable and found one another, it seems the second part of the great masterplan is coming to fruition: nakedness.

Facebook doesn’t allow proper nakedness, but there is smut that flies about on Twitter, and my single gay friends tell me that online dating profiles are almost exclusively penis shots these days.

Whether you’re on Meet Market or Gaydar, Grindr or Scruff, you’re going to be bombarded with filth. There was a fair amount of that when I was on there too, but you did get to see some of the other parts of a person. You know, like a smile or an elbow.

I’m no prude. In fact, I give such long speeches on the merits of porn to my female friends (who are often sexually repressed, in my view) that it’s starting to get creepy. I wouldn’t rush to delete a crotch shot should it find its way onto my phone, and I’ve done my fair share of home movie making.

There’s also something that really appeals to me about the no-nonsense approach to sexuality that camera phones, online dating and social media have unleashed. It saves time and cuts through the bullshit. Let’s be honest; if you are looking for a quick hook-up, you’re not really interested in how someone looks in a suit or whether they seem like a fun person to take to the movies – you want to know what kind of sex you’re getting yourself into.

And now that a lot of the dating sites have gone the mobile app route, the sex hunt has been taken to the next level. Filtering by body type and distance, you can map out how close you are to the nearest well-endowed bear or jock as if you’re some kind of lusty airport control tower. There is so little effort required in the process these days it’s a wonder there are still people left who haven’t slept together.

“I guess there is something quite appealing about the idea that other people could be getting off while looking at images of you. It’s quite an ego trip…”

But I’m not sure this increasing comfort with our own public nakedness is entirely a good thing.

For starters, many people aren’t looking for just a quick hook-up. And if that’s the case, it’s almost depressing to have to sift through a sea of penises. Instead of being arousing, they become dehumanising: markers of how objectifying, transactional and shallow many sexual encounters are. And there’s also the risk that cock-shots become an expectation. If you don’t share one, will people think you have something to hide? Will people just assume you have a tiny or weirdly shaped package?

And then, of course, there’s the artsy side to it. With sites like XTube we can upload our home videos and become internet porn sensations. The industry has become democratised, and anyone can participate. You don’t even need a six-pack anymore, so it must be good for all of our self-esteems, right? But despite what Instagram may have taught us to think, most of us don’t take great photos or videos. If that were the case, there would be no need for the Hollywoods, Bollywoods, and Nollywoods of this world (I’m sure there’s a joke in there about the porn industry and wood, too, but I haven’t worked out what it is yet).

The flood of amateur porn has definitely increased the options for the viewing public, but how often are we just disappointed? We waste precious seconds of our lives waiting for videos to buffer only to discover they are boring and have terrible lighting? Without some professional casting and a decent camera crew, we’re left with the sad reality that most penises look the same and aren’t all that exciting without some kind of context.

So why do we do it? Do all of us, on some level, want to be porn stars?

I guess there is something quite appealing about the idea that other people could be getting off while looking at images of you. It’s quite an ego trip. I think I’m too much of an introvert to follow through, though. The idea that people other than my partner could have images like that of me just makes me anxious, and anxiety isn’t all that sexy.

The pictures and videos can be abused and stolen, after all. I’ve had the bizarre experience of seeing a photo of my ex pop up as the profile picture of someone I follow on twitter ﾖ someone who has never met and does not know my ex. And there was that awful incident where a teenage girl killed herself after photos of her boobs that she had sent to a boy were distributed among everyone at her school.

The moral of the story, I suppose, is that technology has freed us to do things that society hasn’t yet accepted. There is nothing stopping us from becoming porn stars and internet sensations. It’s easy to share our most private moments and our most private parts with the whole world. But does that mean we should? Perhaps we’ll regret it one day when we’re trying for that promotion, or have dreams of becoming President.

Maybe we’ll realise that there’s more to dating ﾖ and even to sex ﾖ than convenience, and that every cock shot we send pushes us further out of reach of the slightly more reserved guy who could have been perfect for us.