Blind Sex

I’m putting this here because I don’t where else to put it, really. It’s something I wrote on the way home, text-messaging on my cellphone. I suppose it’ll wind up in the Snippets section. I can’t see a story coming out of this. Just another exercise for the bored?


There are benefits to going blind late in life. Some people are saddened by my condition. To have sight until 40 and then just have the lights go out? Why, that’s so tragic! They don’t know how to process it. Most sighted people can’t imagine anything more terrible than losing their sight. I was no different, I suppose. If I’d had my choice, I probably would have chosen my hearing or speech.
Well, not now. Not that I know. It’s not tragic in my opinion. Now every woman I have sex with looks like Angelina Jolie. How great is that? I can put any face on any body, and who can prove me wrong? Angelina. Jessica Alba. Scarlett Johansson. Rona Mitra. I’ve done them all. And that just scratches the surface. The only problem I ran into was with that hairy woman that one time. Despite my best efforts, she wound up looking like Dan Haggerty.
And sex itself? Oh, man. If I’d known I would have been wearing blindfolds years ago. It’s a completely new experience. The first thing I discovered is that women smell really good. I’m not taking about perfumes and lotions. Women have this musky earthiness about them. Ever wiggled your bare toes in soft, rich soil? You just connect somehow. A woman’s scent is intoxicating. So different, and yet somehow a compliment to my own male sharpness and sweat.
But the fun only begins there. How could I describe the feel of her soft skin upon my fingers? The wonderful, warm softness of her breasts? Before I was so dazzled by the visual grandeur of breasts that I didn’t think much about how they felt. What man does? We’re visual creatures. Breasts are nice, but touching them is only the tactile extension of looking at them. But now? They’re a feast of warmth and scent. Her being made corporate, yielding and firm. Her secret treasures.
That last observation surprises the sighted. Most people think surely that penetration is her secret treasure. Her letting you into her most intimate place. But no. Not for me. Not for the newly blind. Being inside of her is something else entirely. Accepting, of course, and obviously intimate. But that is a tactile, erotic sensation. All muscles squeezing and juices, sweat and wetness mingling. That is primal. Breathtaking. To lie there inside of her and listen to her labored breathing and feel her heartbeat surrounding you. She’s not letting you into her. That’s her coming into you. That’re the boundaries being blurred. Both of you becoming something else. A moment. A breath. One heaving, undulating heap of sweaty flesh and yin and yang.
Words fail me. What’s that old saying? “It’s like describing the color blue to the blind”? How do you describe the feel of the color blue to the sighted? Or its taste?
So pity me not for the loss of my sight. Yes, I will never again see a sunset. I will never again ride a motorcycle. Or read the signs that say “beware of alligators”. But I have only just begun to explore this world that was hidden from me for so long. I’m not talking about sex. I only touched upon sex because it was the only example which you would follow to the end. You wouldn’t have cared if I had explained the tactile joys of a cheeseburger with chili and onions. Or the fun of sitting on the front porch and listening to the insect armies moving in the grass.
You see, if only for a moment, I wanted to take you with me. I wanted you stop applauding me for being so stoic in the face of my adversity. Stop patting me on the head for trying to move on with my life. What manner of species are we if it’s expected of us that we will shrivel up and die if the basic pattern is disturbed?
I am now a man of two worlds. I lived much of my life the land of the sighted. Now I’ve been given a new, better life. I understand the appeal of wine now. The simple pleasure of freshly baked bread.
If I’ve lost you by straying from the sex, then try this on for size. I have one advantage over my blind brothers who have been sightless since birth. At least I know what Angelina Jolie looks like. And when the lights went out, I brought her with me into the darkness. Now she’s even more beautiful. She smiles at me, annoyed but amused at my mischievousness. She doesn’t really mind that I can never remember where I put her clothes. In fact, she shows me her appreciation of my playfulness by coming to in a swirl of smells, feels and intoxicating warmth.

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