book reviews, sex

Repost: A review of Men in Love, by Nancy Friday…

Here’s one last as/is reposted book review that I wrote for Epinions in July 2004. This one is of Men in Love, a book about men’s sexual fantasies.

This review is of a book that contains frank, sexual content. If that is a turn off for you, you may want to skip reading this review.

I first picked up Nancy Friday’s book Men in Love (1980) about fourteen years ago, just after I read her breakthrough book about women’s sexual fantasies My Secret Garden and its sequel, Forbidden Flowers. At the time, I was a freshman in college and very interested in sex, although I wasn’t partaking of any at the time. Nancy Friday’s books about women’s sexual fantasies were eyeopeners for me, but Men in Love: Men’s Sexual Fantasies: The Triumph of Love Over Rage was particularly enlightening– or at least it was at the time. Remember, back in 1990, we didn’t have the internet so readily at our disposal!

In Men in Love: Men’s Sexual Fantasies: The Triumph of Love Over Rage, I got to find out what turns men on in their own words. I should mention that I once had a pocket paperback version of this book, but somehow it disappeared. I ended up replacing it with a nicer version of the paperback- one that was published in 1998 with bigger print for my aging eyes.

The first sentence of Chapter One reads “This is a book about men who love women.” (1). Reading through some of these sexual fantasies may not leave the average woman with the belief that all of the men who contributed their fantasies to this book “love women”. In fact, when I read one of the fantasies aloud to a friend of mine, she said “My God! That man is a misogynist! Look at how much hatred of women that fantasy reveals!” I will agree with her that some of the fantasies included in Men in Love are violent, disgusting, and even disturbing. However, it’s important to remember when reading this book is that these are fantasies and as such, they don’t generally have any basis in reality. As Friday writes,

“a fantasy is a map of desire, mastery, escape, and obscuration; the navigational path we invent to steer ourselves between the reefs and shoals of anxiety, guilt, and inhibition. It is a work of consciousness, but in reaction to unconscious pressures” (1).

And yes, some of the fantasies are pretty bizarre, but again, fantasies don’t have to be garden variety or “normal”. I daresay that if Friday had included a bunch of “normal” fantasies about missionary position sex, her book would not have sold very well at all. People don’t want to read about run of the mill stuff– they are attracted to the weird. Friday further writes,

“While the sexual fantasies of many men were a pleasure and easily available to my emotions right from the start, others disgusted and frightened me. Many seemed outpourings from macho braggarts out to shock or trap me in filth. I was like the Victorian husband who encourages his wife to tell all. When she does, he leaves her.” (3).

Nancy Friday enlisted the aid of Dr. Robert Robertiello, a psychoanalyst, in reading the sexual fantasies. Robertiello apparently helped Friday interpret the entries, lent his professional opinions, and challenged her to question his own opinions. She also consulted Dr. Leah Schaefer and Dr. Sirgay Sanger, two other psychoanalysts. There’s no doubt in my mind that their help was invaluable in this endeavor. There are fantasies about every imaginable thing. However, Friday reports that bar none, the most popular theme was that of a “weak” woman being intimidated and forced by a man into doing something naughty and delicious, being raped repeatedly, but then losing her guilt and taking pleasure in the acts that had once seemed so forbidden to her (6). Interestingly enough, Friday reports that “rape” was also the most popular theme among women, although she hastens to add “I’ve yet to meet a woman who wouldn’t run a mile from a real rapist” (6). She adds that men’s fantasies about women truly being overpowered are actually not so common. More often, if one reads carefully, he or she will find that the woman offered consent at some point.

Anyway, I’m sure at least some of you who are reading this review are interested in the fantasies– as in, what’s included in this book. Men in Love consists of twenty-two chapters on different themes, the vast majority of which contain fantasies. Topics included in this book vary from relatively tame– ie; masturbation and virgins to slightly wilder– ie; oral sex, anal sex, homosexuals, bisexuals, semen, and sharing and living out fantasies, to wilder still– ie; fetishism, women with women, groups, straight men, gay fantasies, women making men have sex, voyeurs and exhibitionists, sharing the woman with another man, to pretty far out and raunchy– ie; water sports, animals, transvestites, breast and vagina envy, and the ever popular sadomasochism.

Friday identifies each of the owners of the fantasies with a first name and then the fantasy is written out in first person voice, so that it’s if the man himself is telling the story of what makes him hot. In each fantasy, the subject includes information about his educational and religious background as well as a few other personal details. Friday has included fantasies from men of all walks of life, including men in prison and very professional men. The personal details are helpful in allowing the reader to determine from where the fantasies originate in the subject’s psyche. In each chapter and generally between some of the fantasies, Friday offers her own psychoanalysis and comments about the fantasy and what it means. Some of what she writes is interesting, although her comments are generally not terribly in-depth, and I give Friday credit for writing well and providing a fairly intelligent analysis of her subject matter. But of course, her commentary is really secondary to what’s fascinating about this book.

I have to be honest here; it seems that Friday almost had these men write her book for her. She’s in somewhat of a secondary role, because I suspect that most people who read this book aren’t so concerned with what Friday has to say– they’re interested in what turns these men on and, more than likely, what turns them on is also titillating to the readers. Friday’s comments, then, might be considered filler by some people. It wouldn’t surprise me if some readers of this book have a favorite section that they re-visit over and over again because they too are excited by the subject matter, and the other sections, after a first reading, go neglected because they aren’t as personally thrilling.

To some people, this book will be no more than whacking material. To others, it will be a valuable psychology textbook that provides fascinating insight into the act of sex. Those of you who are turned off by frank, graphically detailed sexual content, foul language (including nasty euphemisms for male and female genitalia), and content about sexual situations that are frankly, quite unorthodox, should probably steer clear of Men in Love. Those of you who can handle the explicit content and language and are genuinely interested in the subject matter will probably really enjoy this book and may learn something as well.

I think that ultimately, women can learn a lot from this book about members of the opposite gender… and men can learn that they’re not necessarily freaks for having sexual fantasies. Men in Love is a generous accounting of men’s sexual fantasies. I appreciate the fact that Friday has covered a broad range of topics and she has included so many fantasies by so many different types of men. Personally, I’ve found this book to be fascinating reading, especially now that I’m more mature and can look beyond the obvious titillation factor. But again, this book is not for the easily offended or the squeamish. Some of the fantasies are literally filthy and may disgust even the most hardened reader. And no, there are no pictures included in this book. Everything is left up to your imagination. This may be a good or bad feature of this book, depending on your viewpoint.

I almost forgot to add… Nancy Friday invites men and women to contribute to her research. She also welcomes comments about her books. An address and link to her website are included in the back of this book, along with a guarantee of anonymity. (Edited to add: Nancy Friday died in November 2017, so this part is probably no longer true.)

Buy Men in Love on Amazon.com.

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book reviews, sex

Repost: A review of Forbidden Flowers, by Nancy Friday…

Here’s another reposted Epinions review. This one is of Forbidden Flowers, the sequel to My Secret Garden, by Nancy Friday. It appears as/is, and was originally written in May 2005.

The following review is likely to contain frank sexual content. If that sort of thing bothers you, please skip reading this review!

The year was 1973. I was a baby, having just been born in June of 1972. Author Nancy Friday was making waves with her best selling book, My Secret Garden: Women’s Sexual Fantasies. All around the world, men and women alike were reading and identifying with the women who had bared their souls writing about their favorite sexual fantasies. All around the world, many of those same people were saying to themselves, “Thank God I’m not alone.” My Secret Garden related the sexual fantasies of dozens of women and included an array of erotic subjects, from what might be considered an everyday rape fantasy to more exotic fantasies involving incest, young boys, and animals… just to name a few. One might think that with subject matter so explicit during the dark ages before the Internet, a lot of potential readers might be blushing too much to consider buying the book, let alone reading it. But My Secret Garden was a huge success, so much so that in 1975, Nancy Friday came out with a sequel: Forbidden Flowers: More Women’s Sexual Fantasies.

My first contact with both My Secret Garden and Forbidden Flowers was when I was a 17 year old senior in high school. It was 1990 and at the time, I was just starting to awaken to sex and being a woman. I have to confess that I practically devoured My Secret Garden and I was left hungry for more tales of women’s sexual fantasies. I had already purchased My Secret Garden twice– I lost the first copy, no doubt making some other teenager’s day– and somehow summoned up the courage to buy it a second time. And of course, when I later saw Forbidden Flowers on the shelf, I felt compelled to buy it. So I brought the book up to the cashier, trying to act naturally. I paid for it without incident. And now, almost sixteen years later, I still own my original copy of that book. The pages are yellowed, the cover is missing, and Forbidden Flowers is still a very intriguing book. But I have to admit that I didn’t enjoy it as much as I enjoyed My Secret Garden.

Forbidden Flowers is divided into two parts. The first part, which comes after an introduction written by Nancy Friday herself, is entitled Where Do Sexual Fantasies Come From?. The second part is entitled The Uses of Sexual Fantasy. Both parts are followed by several chapters with somewhat vague subjects. Friday includes the first names of each fantasy writer’s name. Nancy Friday introduces each chapter before she presents the fantasies, writing in a candid, matter-of-fact style. She succinctly explains her point of view, liberally citing studies done by well-known psychiatrists and psychologists.

Personally, I found Nancy Friday’s analysis quite perceptive; thirty years ago, I’m sure that to some people Friday’s thoughts might have even seemed revolutionary… or just merely repugnant. Consider this. On page 15, Friday briefly writes of a study done by Dr. Arnold Gesell, who was observing infant behavior. As paraphrased fron the book, Dr. Gesell placed a naked fifty-six week old boy in front of a mirror and found that the boy was excited by the sight of his own body. Dr. Gesell took a photograph of the naked boy, whose penis was erect. Friday concludes that since this little boy, who was barely a year old, could have an erotic experience, it’s only natural that little girls, who are supposedly more precocious than little boys are, can also have sexual experiences. Friday writes,

And yet the idead is still unacceptable to most people. Childhood is pictured as a time of ribbons, fairy tales, and lemonade. Adults notoriously forget that they were once children too; they close off their minds to early sexual memories– those embarrassing or shameful events connected perhaps with anxieties about masturbation. I am not suggesting that the sugar and spice of little girls’ childhoods are only a false facade. That aspect is real. But so is our sexuality (15-16).

I think Friday is right about adults being uncomfortable with the prospect that children might think about sex. After all, our society loathes the idea that a child’s innocence might be warped by a subject that as supposed to be as “adult” as sex is. Just reading that passage led me to think about the ugliness of pedophilia, even though what Friday wrote had nothing to do with child sexual abuse and everything to do with how natural the acts of sex and masturbation are– or should be, anyway. Plain and simple, the message that I got from Nancy Friday is that thinking about sex is healthy and natural, even for kids. But I still couldn’t help but be somewhat uncomfortable reading that passage.

Friday further explains that after she wrote My Secret Garden, she received over 2000 letters from other women who had sent her their sexual fantasies. She explains that the women who had written to her came from all walks of life– there were letters from educated and less educated women. As a result of reading the letters, Friday was left with the impression that sexual fantasies usually come from childhood memories.

Part One includes four chapters of fantasies written by women whose stories related specifically to their childhoods. The fantasies are presented simply with the original authors’ name and they are written in their original authors’ voices, complete with “colorful” language. I will offer a warning to those who have delicate sensibilities that the fantasies appear to have been included unedited for anything beyond punctuation and grammar. Most of the fantasies are quite explicit and provocative.

In My Secret Garden, Nancy Friday grouped the fantasies by subject matter, which made it easier for readers to skip sections that they might find objectionable. For example, if a reader didn’t want to read about women who had fantasized about having sex with virgins the person could easily skip that section because Friday had clearly marked it. Friday did not group the fantasies the same way in Forbidden Flowers, so it might be harder for readers to pick and choose what they read in her book.

When I was 17, I was more interested in reading the sexual fantasies. Now that I’m almost twice that age, I find Friday’s analysis more interesting than the fantasies. Friday seems genuinely interested in presenting an intellectual commentary on why women have certain fantasies. I suspect that some folks who read Forbidden Flowers will be reading it just for sake of titillation. For those readers who want to dig deeper, I would urge that they read Nancy Friday’s sections and consider what she has to say. Even if they don’t agree with the author’s point of view, the ideas that Friday presents are certainly food for thought.

Forbidden Flowers is definitely not a book that will appeal to everyone. I think that those who are interested in psychology, particularly if they are interested in pop psychology will enjoy Forbidden Flowers. Of course, I believe that this book will also appeal to many men… especially those who want to understand women better. Women who need reassurance that having sexual fantasies are normal may be comforted by Forbidden Flowers. I would not recommend this book if the subject of sex is an uncomfortable one for you. Also, understand that some of the subject matter within this book is not about your garden variety sex. Friday presents sexual fantasies of every flavor, no matter how distasteful they might be to the average reader. Read at your own risk!

Buy Forbidden Flowers on Amazon.com.

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book reviews, sex

Partial repost: A review of My Secret Garden, by Nancy Friday

Here’s a book I originally wrote for Epinions and later reposted on my original blog. I have to do some editing on this post, since it also included some time sensitive and now irrelevant information. Other than that, it’s “as/is”.

My Secret Garden by Nancy Friday, written August 20, 2003

Nice girls think about sex too.

I remember the first time I read Nancy Friday’s 1973 book My Secret Garden. I was seventeen years old and a senior in high school, still quite virginal, and full of questions about sex. As the youngest daughter of two quite conservative (but tired) parents, I suppose I could have talked to one of my three sisters about sexuality. But they are a lot older than I am and none of them were living close by. Besides, it’s not the kind of topic that comes up easily, no matter how brazen and brash a person you might be.

How does one bring up sexual fantasies in a casual conversation anyway? It’s the type of thing one talks about at a slumber party or in a game of truth or dare, maybe. I wasn’t the kind of teenager who went to parties. So it was lucky that I happened upon My Secret Garden at Waldenbooks one day. Swallowing my embarrassment, I picked it up and took it to the counter, trying very hard not to look at the cashier as she rung up my purchase. Then I rushed out of the store and went home to read it. A few weeks later, I misplaced the book, but I was so engrossed by it, that I went out and bought another copy. I still own that copy and I’ve supplemented it with many of Friday’s other books. I’d have to say that of the five I’ve read, I enjoy this one and Men in Love, Friday’s book about men’s sexual fantasies the most.

The foreword is written by someone who calls herself “J”, who is the author of Sensuous Woman (whatever that is). The style is of her prose is matter-of-fact, complete with the “F-word”, as she describes how sexually liberated women feel about the act of having sex in the 70s and their reaction to Friday’s book about women’s sexual fantasies. She writes:

I suspect that women generally will be fascinated by the revelations in this book, but not surprised. Nor will these readers have trouble in acknowledging that they too fantasize. Those women, however, who consider sexual intercourse unpleasant and/or unsatisfying will be revolted by the explicit and enthusiastically carnal sexual daydreams of the women in this book and will reject and deny their own fantasies both to the world and to themselves. And how will the male react? The first man I gave My Secret Garden to was so turned on by the book that he went on a lovemaking marathon. (xiii).

In my experience “J” was right. I was fascinated by this book, but I wasn’t surprised by what I read. However, I found Friday’s 1981 book Men in Love, which contains men’s sexual fantasies, a huge turn on. I suppose we humans all like to know what makes the opposite gender tick sexually. Reading My Secret Garden was kind of like attending a big confessional full of horny women where everyone shared their deepest fantasies of what fanned their flames.

Friday’s writing style is like a documentary, but she only writes at the beginning of each chapter. The rest of the writing is done by the many, many women who sent her letters, detailing the gamut of their sexual fantasies. This book is divided into seven chapters. Within the seven chapters are subchapters that address certain themes.

The afterword is entitled “In Defense of Nancy Friday”, by Martin Shepard, M.D., Psychiatrist. Since this book obviously covers a controversial subject that is disturbing to some conservative people, not to mention sub-topics that will most definitely upset more liberal folks, Nancy Friday probably did need to be defended back in 1973. She might even need it now, thirty years later, for including a subchapter on young boys (even if it is just fantasy, including this section probably concerned a few people).

Even though some of the topics were not my cup of tea, I did find it interesting to read about what turns other women on just from a purely psychological standpoint, which is the way Friday endeavors to tackle the subject. I have to admit, though, that some of the reading was pretty entertaining and quite sexy. Besides, if people were really disgusted by this book, it wouldn’t still be around after thirty years.

If you compared this book to say, Kink: The Shocking Hidden Sex Lives of Americans, by Susan Crain Bakos, a ridiculous read if I ever met one, you’d immediately notice that My Secret Garden is a far superior book. You will also notice, however, that this book is quite dated. The slang used is 70s slang. If you’re in your 30s or 40s or older, you’ll recognize 70s pop cultural references sprinkled within the letters. Some might say that makes this book a classic, and some might say that makes this book dated.

Friday has come out with 1992’s Women on Top, another book about sexual fantasies and 1975’s Forbidden Flowers, her sequel to My Secret Garden to partially address the dated quality of her books. I don’t think either is as good as My Secret Garden. Read this book if you’re curious about what makes women tick and you have an open mind. If you’re easily offended, you might want to skip this book and keep wondering.

Buy My Secret Garden on Amazon.com.

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nostalgia

Repost: Artistic personalities… a look back at my first English professor and his ilk

This is a flashback post I wrote on February 23, 2018. I was fondly remembering my very first English professor at what was then known as Longwood College. I think it’s kind of a cool memory, so I’m reposting it as is.

Because I’m tired of writing about politics and mean-spirited people who send me hate mail, I’ve decided this morning’s post will be about one of my old professors at Longwood.  He was an interesting character and I loved his class, although his methods were very unorthodox.  I’m not sure, but I don’t think he got a lot of love from the other English professors.  It’s probably because he was a very eccentric man… or at least that’s how he seemed to me.

Last night, I looked up Otis Douglas III.  There isn’t a whole lot about him online.  I never knew how old he was, but when I knew him, he had a rather rumpled look, with wild white hair and old sweaters.  Some might think of him as an “absent minded professor”, although I never really thought of him in that way.  I figured he was well-seasoned by the time I met him in 1990.  He’d been teaching at Longwood for almost as long as I’d been alive.

The class I took from him was called Rhetoric and Research, otherwise known as English 100.  It was a basic class that almost all freshman took upon arrival at Longwood.  It was supposed to help us learn how to write.

A short blurb about my former English teacher from a 1974 issue of The Rotunda…  If any of my classmates are reading this, I highly recommend checking out the whole paper.  It’s a hoot!  Especially the letters to the editor!

As I was researching Mr. Douglas, I learned that his family was from Reedville, which is a town not too far from where I grew up.  I’ve only been to Reedville once.  It was in 1998, when a friend and I caught a ferry there.  She was working for a bike tour company, scouting out places to do new tours.  Since she was visiting my neck of the woods, she and I got together and spent the day driving around the Northern Neck of Virginia.  We stopped in Urbana and Irvington, then went to Reedville with bikes, which we brought to Tangier Island.  

Tangier Island is a tiny, fascinating place in the Chesapeake Bay.  It’s accessible from Reedville, Virginia, Onancock, Virginia, and Crisfield, Maryland.  Unfortunately, environmental concerns now threaten Tangier Island’s existence.  I’m sure there were concerns in 1998, too.  Beach erosion and serious storms are big problems for the little island.  I’m just glad I got to see it twenty years ago.  It’s a very interesting place populated by just a few families who have been there for generations.

Mr. Douglas’s roots were apparently near the water, not far from Tangier Island.  I found evidence that he has many kinfolk from Reedville and the Northern Neck, and ties to the College of William and Mary.  I also noticed that there was a United States Navy minesweeper known as the U.S.S. Otis W. Douglas.  She was purchased from the Douglas Company of Reedville, Virginia in 1917 for use in World War I.  Sadly, after serving in Brest, France until 1919, she encountered storms on the way back to the United States and sank.  I’m not sure, but it appears that the Douglas family of Reedville might be linked to McDonnell-Douglas, the company that makes airplanes.  At least the Wikipedia article about the ship implies that maybe it does.  Reedville is not a big place, so I can’t imagine there were many other Douglas families there in the early 20th century.

I grew up near the water, in fact in a county not far from the Northern Neck, but my family comes from Virginia’s mountains and valleys.  I found out that Mr. Douglas’s father was kind of a famous man.  Mr. Douglas is the son of Otis Douglas Jr., a very well-regarded football player and coach who once played for the Philadelphia Eagles.  I don’t have to read too much about Mr. Douglas’s father to know who he is.  The photo of Otis Douglas Jr., included in his New York Times obituary, reveals that his son bears a striking resemblance.  In fact, when I looked at Otis Douglas Jr.’s picture, I was momentarily stunned by how much he looked like a cleaner cut version of his son.  

I learned in an obituary about Mr. Douglas’s sister, Eleanor, that their family moved a lot, due to their father’s career in sports.  They lived in twenty-six states and Canada.  Mr. Douglas never mentioned any of this in class.  Much like my former philosophy professor, Dr. John Peale (son of Norman Vincent Peale), he kept it quiet.  Instead, he engaged us with stories about how to publish articles and talked about how difficult writing well is. 

My very first English professor at Longwood was very intent on teaching his students how to gamble.  I remember Douglas telling us that writing well is one of the hardest things a person can do.  He taught us that it takes many drafts to get something just right.  He wanted us to write many drafts of papers about rather mundane subjects.  Our class consisted of nothing but keeping a portfolio with assignments that I recall seemed either bizarre or tedious.

Mr. Douglas didn’t have us write essays.   He’d have us write directions to locations.  We had to pay close attention to specific details as we wrote our directions.  I found the process pretty boring, although I enjoyed Mr. Douglas’s offbeat teaching style.  He wasn’t like any of my other professors.  He would tell us stories sometimes, but mostly, he talking about playing games of chance, like Blackjack. 

He even had us learn the basics of shooting craps.  I had never shot craps before I met Mr. Douglas, and I haven’t in the 27 years since I was a student in his class.  I don’t gamble.  But Mr. Douglas taught us the basics of the game, and as he taught us, he had us write about how to shoot craps.  It was bizarre and I’ll never forget it, because it was so unconventional.

I also remember the one final paper I wrote for that class.  I really don’t know where my wild streak comes when it comes to writing things down, but for some reason I decided to write a paper about sadomasochism.  I titled it “The Chains of Love”.  I think I was inspired because I was reading a lot of Nancy Friday’s books at the time.  

The late Nancy Friday was famous in the 1970s for writing My Secret Garden, which is a book about women’s sexual fantasies.  It was shocking and groundbreaking at the time.  I think it was published in 1972 or thereabouts, right around the time I was born.  In those days, people evidently didn’t talk frankly about sex, but it was obviously a topic of interest.  Nancy Friday went on to write several other very successful books about sexual fantasies, most of which I read when I was in high school and college.  Because there’s a provocative side to my personality, I guess I decided to write about them in Mr. Douglas’s class.  He must have liked my paper, because I got an A in the class.  I had been told by an older hall mate that Mr. Douglas didn’t give out As.  Obviously, she was wrong about that.

Incidentally, I was a piss poor English major.  I mostly got Bs and Cs in my major, except for classes that focused on creative writing.  I also got an A in a non-fiction writing class.  That class was taught by a similarly eccentric professor named Mr. Woods, who would never correct anyone who called him “Dr. Woods” by mistake.  Mr. Woods could be spotted riding his bike around campus.  I had him for two classes.  One class mostly involved him talking about Madonna’s Sex book, which had just been published and was causing a scandal.  He also talked about the Price Club a lot.  I got an A in his class because I wrote about being flashed while riding on a bus on I-95.  I’m sure I’ve written about this incident before, but since I’m in a stream of consciousness mood, I’m going to write about it again.

It was during my junior year spring break at Longwood and I had gone on spring tour with the Camerata Singers, which was the auditioned choir.  We went on a recruiting tour every spring break that generally culminated in New York City.  We’d perform at churches and schools, then take in a Broadway show.  

The choir was usually pretty exhausted by the end of the spring tours.  Such was the case in 1993, as we headed south toward our college.  I was looking out the window, daydreaming.  Some guy in a bright yellow car pulled up alongside the bus.  I looked at him.  He looked at me.  I looked away.  He dropped out of sight.  When I turned to look out the window again, there he was.  But he’d pulled out his penis and it was kind of flopping there as he drove alongside the bus, flashing everyone who happened to be looking out the window.

Naturally, I let out a yell of surprise, which woke everyone up.  I think more than a few people were traumatized by that guy, getting his jollies exposing himself while speeding down Interstate 95.

I figured I might as well get some traction from being flashed, so I wrote about it and actually drew a crude picture of what I saw.  Mr. Woods was apparently impressed.  He wrote, “Oh my God!  Is that what I think it is!”  And yes, the paper got an A.

Mr. Woods was often compared to Mr. Douglas.  The two of them were kind of outliers in Longwood’s English department back in the 90s.  They were affectionately regarded by students, especially those who were kind of slack.  I’m not sure they were as well-regarded by other professors.   I remember being at a department social and mentioning to one professor– one I never had, though she had quite a reputation– that I liked Mr. Douglas’s class.  I noticed a flash of kind of a disgusted look on her face.  Then, she diplomatically said, “Well, he has what you’d call an artistic personality.”  

Maybe that’s what’s “wrong” with me, too.  My whole life, I’ve been annoying, bewildering, shocking and offending some people, while apparently delighting others.  My husband seems to adore me, even if my parents never really did.  I never had a lot of really close friends or even too many close family members.  Some people I thought were “close”, actually weren’t.  And yet, here I am, married to the nicest guy ever who loves my inappropriate sense of humor and love of shock value.  On the other hand, maybe my experience is everyone’s experience.  Maybe everyone feels like they’re “weird” and eccentric.  I may have to think some more about that today as I wait for the weekend to begin.  

I am sitting here realizing that I have a lot of time on my hands, time that I’m using to look up people I used to know, learning their histories.  I hadn’t thought of Mr. Douglas in a very long time, but it appears that he has a very interesting story.  I love it when I make these discoveries and uncover cool stories.  It feels kind of like striking gold.

This is the one interesting comment someone left on the original post. S/he also took Mr. Douglas’s class. I want to preserve it, so I’m reposting it here.

Unknown May 1, 2018 at 3:53 PM

Great stuff! I enjoyed reading your article. I was in Dr. Douglas’s class In the Fall of 1990. I vividly remember one afternoon, when Mr. Douglas came in the the classroom, and overheard a female student say, ” Guys suck!”
Otis paused and responded “They’re not supposed to.”

It was classic Mr. Douglas.

You nailed it… we wrote papers on how to play Craps.

Another interesting story that I learened is that he taught two of my friends a system to win at Craps, and had them go to Atlantic City to play for him, as I think he was banned from Casinos because of his system of winning. (Think of the movie 21 with Kevin Spacey.)

Is Mr. Douglas still living?

  1. knotty May 1, 2018 at 4:45 PM Thanks for the comment! I don’t know if he’s still living. I think he moved to Charlottesville. I had him Fall of 1990, too, and I remember he was in Richmond at that time.
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politicians, politics

Oh no… Is Bernie Sanders a pervert, too?

Last night, I happened to notice a Snopes article shared by one of my Trump loving relatives. The headline blared– Bernie Sanders’ 1972 Essay on Rape. My relative posted it without comment. He’s one of my less vocal family members, at least on social media. However, I’ve known him my whole life and I know what he thinks of extreme liberalism, so I pretty much understand what his intent was when he (or his wife, since they share an account) posted this link.

I have mentioned more than once that I didn’t always care about politics. In fact, it was probably true in 2015 that I wasn’t really paying attention to the political arena. Back then, it was inconceivable to me that we’d have Donald Trump as our dear leader. But apparently, back in 2015, when Bernie Sanders was running for the Democratic nomination, an old essay of his surfaced on the liberal Web site, Mother Jones. It was written for a long defunct alternative newspaper called Vermont Freeman in February 1972, when I was still in utero. Back then, Bernie was still a young man and it looks like maybe he was trying to make his mark on the world by writing a somewhat bizarre essay on gender roles and sexual fantasies.

The Mother Jones article is a good read, and I recommend that anyone who is legitimately concerned about Bernie’s 48 year old “rape essay” read it and gain some perspective on this. Yes, it’s weird that Bernie opens his article with these paragraphs:

A man goes home and masturbates his typical fantasy. A woman on her knees, a woman tied up, a woman abused.

A woman enjoys intercourse with her man — as she fantasizes being raped by 3 men simultaneously.

The man and woman get dressed up on Sunday — and go to Church, or maybe to their “revolutionary” political meeting.

https://www.vox.com/2015/5/28/8682503/bernie-sanders-rape-fantasy

But– the fact is, some women (and men) do have bizarre sex fantasies. Some women even fantasize about being raped, even if the reality of rape is absolutely horrible and nothing they would ever actually want to happen to them. All you have to do to realize the truth about this is take a look around the darker corners of the Internet, or check out the sales of books like 50 Shades of Grey or 9 1/2 Weeks.

In fact, a revolutionary book about women’s sexual fantasies was published in 1973, just one year after Sanders dared to suggest that some women fantasize about rape. My Secret Garden, by Nancy Friday, was so successful that it spawned several sequels, including Forbidden Flowers, Men in Love (about men’s sexual fantasies), and Women on Top. I have actually read all of those books, having discovered My Secret Garden at a Waldenbooks when I was 17 years old. The books were comprised of sexual fantasies submitted to Nancy Friday by anonymous men and women. Friday compiled the essays, then wrote introductions and explanations between each one. And judging by how crazily well the books sold for many years, a lot of people identified or, at least were very interested.

When I first saw the headline about Bernie Sanders’ “bizarre” sex essay that suggested that a woman fantasized about being raped by three men, the first thing I thought of was My Secret Garden. That book came out at a time when sex was becoming a lot less taboo. It was before the conservative 1980s– before AIDS became a universal terror that reminded people that freely having sex with many partners can lead to devastating consequences. I clearly remember reading several sexual fantasies submitted by women who were fascinated by rape. I’m sure that not a single one of those women would actually want to be raped. It was just a concept in their heads that intrigued them.

I also figure that Bernie Sanders was simply trying to do what most writers try to do. He was trying to get people to read his work about gender roles. His method was to surprise them with something shocking and potentially distasteful, and he succeeded.

It’s true that most people’s first reactions to Bernie Sanders’ essay would likely be horror and disapproval. Most people have closed minds about topics regarding sexual assault and rape, just as they do about taboo topics like pedophilia. There is a difference between a pedophile– who is attracted to children, but may or may not have ever acted on the attraction– and a child sexual molester– who may or may not be attracted to children, but acts on abusing them. It’s not often that I encounter someone who can have a discussion about a topic like pedophilia with an open mind and rationality. Many people think that admitted pedophiles, whether or not they’ve ever acted on their deviant attraction to children, should simply be taken out and shot, rather than given compassion and real help for what must be a horrifying problem.

And yet, strangely enough, a lot of the people who publicly express horror and disgust toward sexual abuse of women and children don’t mind voting for a man who has openly admitted to sexually abusing women and has actually been accused of raping at least two– one of whom was just 13 years old at the time. I guess they choose to overlook inconvenient facts– particularly when it means more money in their paychecks. It’s much easier to be outraged about topics like rape and sexual assault when one’s livelihood isn’t at stake.

I will admit that I don’t know a lot about Bernie Sanders, other than his age– 78– and that he’s well known for radical, idealistic ideas that upset a lot of conservatives. Bernie Sanders just won the New Hampshire primaries ahead of Pete Buttigieg. Scores of people are “feelin’ the Bern”, while a lot of other people think Trump is “making America great again”. I guess some conservative folks are legitimately worried that Bernie could actually win the White House and things will be “worse” for them than they were during the Obama era. I think a lot of white people– particularly those from rural areas who have felt disenfranchised and shamed for being who and what they are– are afraid that a potential President Bernie Sanders will land them at the bottom of the heap. And so, I can understand why my relative saw fit to share this old news about Bernie’s foray into alternative journalism.

I’m not sure I approve of Bernie Sanders’ attempts to be edgy in his writing for a long defunct alternative newspaper in notoriously liberal Vermont. However, I would much rather have a president who has written clumsy, provocative essays about taboo subjects like sexual assault and rape fantasies, than have a president who has actually carried them out. And, as I pointed out above, many Americans have already shown that they don’t even care about the sexual abuse of women, when it either doesn’t personally affect them or someone they love, or it involves someone famous and charismatic.

Look at how long it’s taken for Bill Cosby to finally be punished for what he did to dozens of women over the years. Look how long Jeffrey Epstein got away with raping, abusing, and sexually trafficking young girls before he was finally dealt with by law enforcement. Look at the fact that our current president was actually caught bragging about “grabbing women by the pussy” before he was even elected! People still voted for Trump, even though he was undeniably guilty of making those misogynistic statements in what he called “locker room talk”. I think it’s disingenuous for Republicans to be upset about Bernie Sanders’ 48 year old comments about rape and sexual fantasies for a long defunct alternative newspaper. Moreover, I’m sure that most politicians are dirty to some extent. Being involved in some kind of sex scandal seems to be required for any of them to move beyond the most basic political offices, but maybe I’m just being cynical.

So… count me among those who say “big whoop” about Bernie Sanders’ so-called “shocking” rape essay, published before I was even born. In the grand scheme of things, I don’t think it’s a big deal. As far as I know so far, Mr. Sanders hasn’t actually abused anyone sexually himself, although I did read that some women claimed that they experienced sexual harassment during his 2016 campaign. However, I haven’t read that Mr. Sanders was, himself, the perpetrator of that harassment. Donald Trump, on the other hand, has been accused of some extremely vile sexual conduct which I have, more than once, written about in this blog. I will take Bernie Sanders’ declaration that some women fantasize about rape (which is a verified fact) any day over Donald Trump boasting about his ability to harass women at will because he’s a “star”.

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