Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Complete and unexpurgated

And he realized as he went into her that this was the thing he had to do, to come into tender touch, without losing his pride or his dignity or his integrity as a man. After all, if she had money and means, and he had none, he should be too proud and honorable to hold back his tenderness from her on that account. 'I stand for the touch of bodily awareness between human beings,' he said to himself, 'and the touch of tenderness. And she is my mate. And it is a battle against the money, and the machine, and the insentient ideal monkeyishness of the world. And she will stand behind me there. Thank God I've got a woman! Thank God I've got a woman who is with me, and tender and aware of me. Thank God she's not a bully, nor a fool. Thank God she's a tender, aware woman.' And as his seed sprang into her, his soul sprang towards her too, in the creative act that is far more than procreative.

(D.H. Lawrence - Lady Chatterley's Lover)

So I finally told him. Here's how I did it. Before I left for BC, I gave him a copy of Lady Chatterley's Lover, which is one of my favourite books of all time, with the url written on the inside margin of a strategic page. My reasoning was this: if, on my advice, he takes the time to read this, a book that is not, at first glance, his style, then I know I can trust him. If he doesn't bother to read it, then I know it's not worth telling him.

He had it read in a little over a week. Hurrah.

I love this book for a multitude of reasons. The clandestine nature of Connie and Mellors' meetings resonates with me because too often I have also conducted clandestine meetings. I've often had to leave before I was ready, had to steal kisses under stairwells, in cars, in music practice rooms to avoid disapproving authority figures. I've felt like I was under siege sometimes, lovers in a dangerous time and all that. Like my love was a crime. Like I was supposed to be asexual, a good little girl with my books and my schoolwork. Living a mental life, like Clifford expects of Connie.

But it's so empty, that life. So dry and boring. Lacking real passion, real beauty, a real connection with another human being.

I love sex not just because it feels good, but because it can touch something primal, something immune to the bullshit that's rampant. If you're doing it right, it's impossible to hold back in those final, ecstatic moments. You're allowed to let go, to drop the last of your masks and reveal yourself in a way that can't be convincingly faked. It can be a way to rebel against those authority figures, those proponents of the machine, as well as the most powerful way to connect with someone else. Someone to stand with you against the "insentient ideal monkeyishness of the world." Sex can still be authentic, in a world where very few things are.

I love Lady Chatterley's Lover because it leaves the bullshit behind. It's the story of two people who let passion guide them, and the rest of the world can go hang. I'd like to follow their lead.


Blogger Shon Richards said...

I sometimes feel that all kinky people are like Lady Chatterly and her Gardener. There was so much bullshit rationalization from her husband about how sex wasn't needed in day to day life. I loved how there was that grand disconnect between what she needed and how her husband perceived her needs. It reminds me of the crap prudish people will spout about anyone with an alternative lifestyle.

9:52 AM  
Blogger LocuTus of Borg said...

I have not heard of that book, but think I am going to definitely check it out. I would read it for you and to you ;). Your paragraph on sex was great - feel the same way. I do not understand how some people are so inhibited by it or even scared of it. Happy Friday!

11:04 AM  

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