The Quantification of Everything
An R-Rated Inquiry
Orgasmic! That’s how I feel — absolutely, positively (dare I say “joyfully?) orgasmic! And that’s not just a figure of speech. Literally, I feel like I could climax at any moment, even though I’m sitting alone with my laptop at a very crowded café on the banks of the Limmat in downtown Zurich.
I can feel my cheeks blush. Underneath my layered look of oversized jacket, unbuttoned blouse, and camisole, I can sense my nipples stiffening against the fabric of my demi bra. My skinny jeans are tight against my crotch, and I feel the irresistible urge to pull them tighter, ever tighter.
Actually, it’s hard — extremely hard — to restrain my hands from reaching down beneath the table to touch myself between my spreading thighs as they hunger for something to wrap around and hump.
Can people notice? Is anybody watching? My eyes dance furtively around the room.
Let them watch, as I dare myself to leap up on top of the table, swirl my hands through my tossed-back hair, and scream ecstatically:
“One-thousand like’s! Yes! My Author’s Page on Facebook has 1,012 like’s! Yes! I’ve broken the magic 1,000 barrier! Yesyesyes!
“And I want you now to like me again and again and again! More and more like’s, forever. I love it when you like me so.” I moan. “Yes, fuck me please, harder, faster….” I close my eyes and whimper:
“I never knew a gangbang could feel so good.”
Afterwards — there’s always an “afterwards,” isn’t there? — my pensive face looks around the cafe for an imaginary cigarette to bring to my lips as my brain wanders….
What’s the difference between Followers and Stalkers, I wonder? And why do I crave one and not the other? Why are catcalls on the street demeaning, yet “likes” on Facebook so uplifting?
Yes, inquiring minds want to know. So does my body. The “likes” that trigger a brain’s endorphin rush also sometimes make me wet — a fact that in today’s society I’m not embarrassed to admit and share, as you can tell and probably don’t need reminding.
Does that make me promiscuous, always seeking confirmation in numbers?
So it becomes something to brag about —that I have almost 10,000 — TEN THOUSAND! — Facebook followers . (Just imagine if they all “liked” me, too!)
But what if I were to confess that I had been fucked by 10,000 different men? Not to mention innumerable women with dildos, plus the occasional animal (but none bigger than a horse). Talk about Big Data!
Would I be a sideshow freak? Or a savvy brand marketer?
“Leda and the Swan” background photo courtesy www.derricksantini.com