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Horny Like the Wolf

I went to a Duran Duran concert earlier this year, and when they started playing ‘Girls on Film’ I was overcome by a wave of nostalgia. The throbbing beat, heavily-chorused staccato guitar and sounds of clicking cameras brought back memories of my childhood.

As I watched Simon LeBon trying to recreate his 80′s groove, I thought about the 80′s me trying to find one. I thought about my Duran Duran scrapbook and how I wished wearing lipstick would make me look as cool as Nick Rhodes. I also thought about how I used to think I was so clever when I would write the band’s name on my notebook by holding two pencils together, which meant I only had to write “Duran” once. Then I thought about masturbation.

What made me think of masturbation was the uncensored version of the ‘Girls on Film’ video. I first saw it in 1983, after my grandmother rented it for me at the local Curtis Mathes, along with a top-loading VCR that had to be at least fifty pounds. I’m not sure what’s more shocking; that my grandmother rented a video for me that was clearly marked “Uncensored,” or that a Curtis Mathes in a small, Southern town was renting it in the first place.

If you’ve never seen it, the video is filled with sexy scenes of women in various stages of undress. At least it is once you suffer through more than a minute of watching the set being built and the guys in Duran Duran doing their hair and makeup. At 11-years-old, the video was as good as gold to me. My favorite band AND nudity? At the same time?!? What more could a kid ask for?

My favorite part of the video was a close up of a woman rubbing an ice cube over her nipple. For some reason I thought this was incredibly sexy. It took quite a few years and a few wasted ice trays before I finally realized that rubbing ice cubes on their nipples wasn’t common practice among women. I’ve been met with few bigger disappointments in life.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, masturbation.

As Duran Duran continued to play, I thought about how much masturbation has changed. Or at least how the materials used for masturbation have changed. For instance, these days I can see nipples whenever I want. Hell, I can even see full breasts on my phone if I so desire. Breasts! On my phone! Can you imagine what the eleven-year-old me would be doing had he had access to this kind of technology? OK, I guess you can…

But back then my choices were limited to, “Do I pause on the iced nipple, or do I pause on the scantily-clad girls sliding on the whip-cream-covered candy cane pole as they prepare to have a pillow fight?” Proper pausing was crucial, since both scenes were way too short to be of any use in real time. Before I could even get my pants down, I’d be looking at Simon LeBon doing his sexy pout again and I just didn’t think of Simon in those terms.

There was something great about not having a plethora of pornographic possibilities, though, because once you did find something you liked, you did your business and moved on. Hell, sometimes you even used nothing but your imagination, a concept that feels as dated as the bag phone.

These days the choices are endless, which is bad for a guy like me. I’ll walk into a book store or a record store knowing exactly what I want but become so overwhelmed by all the choices that I forget what I’m there for. With Internet porn it becomes a long-and-winding road of vagina and corrupted morals and before I know it I’ve wasted an hour of my life. Whereas, say, the 13-year-old me – by then a certified master of the pause button – would have been satisfied looking at Paula Abdul’s underwear as she slid across the floor in the ‘Cold-Hearted’ video.

You know, if “choice” were a man, he would be a cold-hearted snake not unlike the one Paula was singing about. Once you took the time to look into his eyes you’d say, “Uh-ohhh, he’s been telling lies!” The biggest lie being that choice is always good. Yes, choice is nice to have, but so is food, yet that doesn’t mean all-you-can eat buffets are ever a good idea. Although, a buffet is likely to have an ice machine, which means there would be an unlimited supply of ice cubes to rub on your nipples in between gluttonous helpings of fried chicken and mac ‘n’ cheese. Hmmm. Now I may have to rethink my position on choice. I’ll be sure to do that as soon as I’m finished looking at all these breasts, on my phone!

One thought on “Horny Like the Wolf”

  1. The pillow fight from Girls on Film was sort of derivative of Barbarella and many of the Nouvelle Vague set ups from the 60s … if only we had a buffet, cornucopia of porn on our handheld devices in 1983. Who knows how the Cold War would have ended … who indeed ?

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